


The taxidermist

by Angelus19



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dark Magic, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Musical References, Paraphilias, Rituals, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 164,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelus19/pseuds/Angelus19
Summary: It's strange how things happen sometimes. Only three words are needed to ensure that a curious person does exactly what you expect them to. These three simple words will never fail you: Don't do it.It happened. She did it. And she was too late.An AU.
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne
Comments: 153
Kudos: 935





	1. The encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [El taxidermista](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035) by [Angelus19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelus19/pseuds/Angelus19). 



The deer perked up its ears and sniffed the air. There was no sound except for the running water and the soft song of the birds resting in the area. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Regardless, the deer was uneasy. It was almost as if it could feel a deadly omen prowling amongst the bushes.

Suddenly, a shot broke through the peaceful silence. The direct hit to the deer's jugular was all that was needed. The animal, in a futile attempt to flee, staggered a few meters as blood bubbled from the wound in its neck. His legs shuddered and he collapsed to the grass.

Discretion was one of the qualities I had cultivated in order to properly execute my favorite pastime: deer hunting. Stealth, controlling my breathing, and being constantly aware of every pulse, every heartbeat, was key to knowing the moment to pull the shotgun's trigger. To see such a beautiful creature writhing on the ground, drowning in its own blood, dedicating its final imploring gaze to me as it begged for a merciful execution... being the sole witness as life escaped its body... in that moment, I felt like God.

I put my shotgun in the holster, threw the animal's body over my shoulder, and started walking to my home past the forest of my native New Orleans. I felt something hot run down my shoulder, seeping through the fabric of my jacket. I smiled widely. Surely she would scold me for having stained my jacket with the blood of another dead deer.

I arrived at the porch of my house and dropped the dead deer next to the door. I stretched out my arms and rotated my shoulders; carrying that much weight on a regular basis had developed my strength and resistance over the years, but the pain I felt in my back after hauling dead animals around remained constant.

As I entered my house, a jazz song played on the living room radio, and I could hear someone humming along from the kitchen. The wonderful smell of jambalaya immediately flooded my senses. Oh, what a magnificent way to end a day of rest!

“Oh! Mister Alastor, how good of you to...” I heard someone peek around the kitchen, only to come running up to meet me. She shoved her face forward to examine my jacket.  
“Mister Alastor! Not again! Don't you know how long it takes me to get the blood out of your jacket without damaging it?!" She yelled indignantly at me.

Charlotte Magne. My servant was massaging her temples, begging heaven to bless her with patience. I couldn't help but laugh a little at her desperation. For me, the garment was easily replaceable, but Charlotte enjoyed being extremely thorough and enthusiastic with everything she did, and took great pride in her work.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” I told her in a conciliatory way. I stroked her head as I would a puppy "You don't need to wash it. I was just going to change out of this old thing. All you need to worry about is throwing it away."

Her big eyes looked at me reproachfully. Even though I was her boss, and around ten years older than her, she still cared for and treated me like one would their son.

“Fine, but please, promise me you'll be more careful." she said with her hands on her hips “With how our country is right now, it isn't right that you walk around wasting clothes that could easily last much longer with proper care. Now, please, give it to me. I have a hot bath waiting for you and dinner will be on the table in fifteen minutes.”

I relinquished the jacket to her, and she folded it elegantly over her arm. The door was still open, allowing her to see the buck, dead on the porch.

“This is a great specimen.” she said placidly, as if she were commenting on the weather.

“It was very elusive.” I said with pride, examining its majestic antlers. “It took me several days of tracking, until I finally trapped him near the creek!”

She let loose a small giggle.

“I still haven't decided if I want to mount its head in the study or conserve the body completely. Whatever the case, we'll have meat for several days.”

“And just in time.” she took a piece of paper out of her front pocket and showed it to me “I was looking through the books in the kitchen and I have a few new recipes for preparing venison.” she said enthusiastically. Her brilliant personality seemed contagious. "Would you like to try venison in a red wine sauce?"

I gave her a genuine smile.

“That sounds fantastic, my dear!” I exclaimed. I took her hand and spun her around, deftly catching her in my arms just before her head touched the ground.

She looked at me in surprise. Her naturally rosy cheeks took on a crimson hue as her hands tightened on the fabric of my jacket.

“I-it makes me happy that you like the idea.” she said with a tense smile as she quickly stood up. She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “But before we can celebrate, I have to prepare the recipe. At the moment, it’s only on paper.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that it will be splendid when you make it.” I said with a bow. “Everything you do is splendid.”

She smiled even more. I had to admit, sometimes I made her uncomfortable on purpose just to see the adorable contrast of colors on her snowy skin.

However, instead of rejoicing at my genuine vote of confidence, she smiled sadly.

“Did you know, you’re the only person that has ever told me that?” she said with a sigh.

I laughed.

“Only fools wouldn't notice your potential, dearest.” I said, stepping into the house.“Alright, I'm going to bathe. The smell of death isn't appropriate for dining.”

“I'll be awaiting you with the table set.” I heard her say to me as I closed the door.

As I entered the bathroom, I noticed how she had taken pains to add sprigs of lavender to the hot water again. I smiled. She had taken note that my muscles had been aching this morning.She was truly enchanting.

Following Charlotte’s instructions left me far from being offended, regardless of the fact that she was my servant. It freed me from having to think when I didn’t want to. So, regularly, I obeyed her without complaint.

I submerged myself in the hot tub and sank down to the bridge of my nose, relaxing my tense muscles. I could almost feel the smell of dried blood lifting off my skin. I tried to clear my head while regulating my breath. What a delicious moment.

  
I started to lather my body. In recent years, it was a luxury to even have soap. Thanks to my job as a radio host, I could afford to have it despite the enormous economic crisis that was gripping the country. A show worth seeing, really.

I felt privileged to have front row seats to it from the window of the radio station building. From where I was seated, I could see, almost daily, a financially desperate man throwing himself from the top floor of the building across the street, falling to the pavement to end his pathetic existence.

The suicides were so regular that the majority of the passers-by avoided walking past the front of the building in question, out of fear that a suicide would fall upon them.

Me, I simply had fun with it. I enjoyed sitting in front of the window with my dried venison sandwich as I listened to the recurring uproar of the crowds in the street when they saw someone on the terrace. I would wait patiently for the subject to decide if he would launch himself to his immediate demise.

Once, there had been three suicides in the same afternoon. One of the flattened bodies was cried over by what seemed to be his wife and seven children, sobbing on the ground.  
Oh, so many orphans.

I couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

“Mister Alastor, I left clothes ready for you in your room!” I heard the muffled voice of Charlotte from outside the door, and it snapped me from my thoughts.

“Thank you, my dear!” I replied.

I smiled as I felt her footsteps fade away through the hall.

Charlotte had been a blessing on my life. She maintained the house like a Swiss watch. Food on time, everything well in order, and my clothes cleaned and ironed. Her cheerful demeanor flooded the house with its presence, and her habit of singing along to the rhythm of the jazz on the radio while doing chores was something I appreciated. She sang very well.

I loved the order, and Charlotte was a great help. It allowed me to better manage my free time. Especially when she cleaned the blood out of the dead deer before beginning the taxidermy process.

I had even tried to teach her how to hunt, but she was against the idea of ever using a rifle.

“It surprises me that you don’t want to learn how to use a firearm, dear,.” I had said to her on that occasion, “If I were you, I would want to release my soul’s pent up resentments on small and pathetic beings.”

“Uh.... No, thank you.” She responded nervously, pushing away the rifle that I offered her. “I'd prefer a less violent passtime.”

It was then that I offered to teach her the delicate art of taxidermy, something that she could enjoy in her spare time.

Upon seeing the results of my own work, she had insisted that she wanted to learn to preserve animal figures. She had marvelled at the trophy antlers that I had hung in my living room.Little by little, she began to wait with more and more enthusiasm for the small animals I would hunt for her. The deer, however, were left exclusively for myself.

She was surprisingly good at sowing. Her grace and delicacy allowed her to darn dead skin by the millimeter over the sponge molds. With dedication she worked hard to emulate the elegant and neat figure of the animal she was preparing.

I fondly recollected how proud she was to show me her first finished squirrel. It was almost perfect! I congratulated her on the progress she had achieved in such a short time, and she could barely contain her joy.

Thus, together in my house in rural New Orleans, we had shared fond memories for two years.

Though, the manner in which we met was not what most would consider pleasant. I closed my eyes for a moment to relive the memories in my head.

The day I found Charlotte was one I'll never forget.

***

It was an exceptionally cold winter, to the point where snow had fallen. It was a rare sight to behold, given the characteristic humidity of New Orleans.

But I couldn’t resist venturing out to hunt a deer in that beautiful white landscape. Imagining the snow, so white and pure, becoming stained with hot, fresh blood, made my hair stand up on end with excitement. I took my hunting gear and left.

At that time, the deer had taken refuge, only leaving in moments of extreme necessity, such as to look for leaves or tree bark. The acorns on the ground were the perfect bait, as they were highly appreciated by these animals, their caloric level helping the deer to endure the low temperatures. This is what I had been waiting for, unsuccessfully, among the bushes near a pair of oak trees with generous amounts of acorns scattered at their roots.

I had been optimistic as I left with the sun, with the hope to hunt a deer quickly, considering I had chosen an adequate place. But as the hours of the afternoon passed by, the water in my canteen had frozen, my supplies had run out seven hours prior, my glasses had frosted over for the upteenth time that day, and my cap was heavy with the snow that had accumulated around my head. I began to lose the feeling in my fingers and toes, and was about to resign myself to returning home, disappointed to have not seen a single specimen for the entire day.

As I put my binoculars in my bag, I heard a heartbreaking cry for help. I leapt from my hiding place to look around me. It didn’t seem like there had been anyone else in this part of the forest except for me. When I heard the same voice cry out again, this time, I could see her. There was a naked girl running through the snow.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn’t an hallucination from being exposed to the cold. But, there she was. It was as if God had just brought her into the world, running erratically and looking around in desperation.

Suddenly, she saw me. Without hesitation, she ran to me and threw her arms around me, crying hopelessly.

“My Lord, help me, please!” she screamed between sobs. Her icy breath escaped her in large puffs.

She was trembling all over. She couldn’t have been over twenty years of age, her long blonde hair plastered to her face by sweat and tears.Her lips were blue; she was clearly suffering from hypothermia. Her nakedness allowed me to see the bruise marks on her arms and fresh, bleeding lashes on her back and legs. The impression had left me paralyzed for a few seconds.

“Please, help me!” she screamed again in panic, “T-they... they want to defile me!”

I looked up to see that “they” had been following her.

I don’t remember exactly what I thought. I only know that, before I knew it, I had hidden the girl behind me and loaded my rifle, aiming it at the three colored men that came towards us with rods and whips in hand. They wore tattered and patched clothes, very unsuitable for cold weather. They looked agitated and furious.

“Hey, you! Give us that bitch!” demanded the one with the whip.

“I presume that you were the ones who gave her all these bruises, is this correct, gentlemen?” I said calmly, without lowering my gun, “What could this lovely lady have done to you to deserve this form of treatment?”

The man with the wooden stick tried to move forward, and I pointed my weapon quickly at his heart.“I suggest you think very hard about what you are doing. This trigger is very sensitive.” I said, without losing my smile.

“Stop, don’t shoot!” the one with the whip yelled.

“It’s our right,” said the one holding the stick, still looking down my gun, “ Her old man gave her to us as payment!”

I cocked my head.

“May I ask who would give such a creature away?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“He was the owner of the Magne cotton farm.” Responded the man. “We were his buskers and the miserable man mistreated us for years. He murdered and raped our mothers, sisters, and wives the whole time. He whipped, mutilated, and killed dozens of our comrades. And now that he’s gone bankrupt due to the crisis, he threw us out on the street.”

“He tried to escape, but we were able to find him before he could flee back to France on a boat with his family. When we grabbed him, we were ready to beat him to death, but he offered us a deal. He said he’d give us his daughter in exchange for us leaving him alone.”

“Even her mother agreed to this deal, and they left for France without even looking back!”

“We have every right to use that girl by consent of her family, so bring her out and give her to us!”

The girl sobbed as she trembled, grasping the back of my jacket. She was whispering the prayers to “Our Father” in French.

“Then, I assume you mean to harm this girl to satisfy your need to inflict damage similar to what he did to you,” I said as I widened my smile in sympathy, “ Hitting her, mutilating her, and raping her to death, in the name of all the pain you suffered, seems to have much poetic justice, if I may say so. It really seems like a fair deal.”

I gave them a bow, feeling the girl stir restlessly behind me, not letting go. They smiled at me, feeling my cooperation.

Suddenly, I shot the one with the whip through his heart. He fell to his back with his eyes open, having died on the spot. The other two failed to recover from their shock as I shot the one with the stick in his Adam’s apple. He dropped to his knees, spitting blood from his mouth as he dug his nails into his throat, trying to breathe. Finally, He fell, eyes wide, thrashing about like a fish out of water until he moved no more.

The third, instead of fighting me, tried to run away, but I managed to shoot him in the neck. His brains scattered on the snow and his body laid upon the ground.

The snow and the acorns had been stained red. It was a shame, really. Acorns with human blood wouldn’t be good bait for the deer. I’d have to find another place to hunt for the next time.

Suddenly, I felt the girl release my jacket. She stood there, pathetically trying to cover her body with her hands as she stared in amazement at the three corpses on the ground. She seemed to be, perhaps, more pale now than she was a moment before, and she continued to tremble violently.

“S-sir, please...” she said with a panicked whisper as she looked me in the eyes.

“Easy, my dear.” I smiled at her. “ I’m not going to kill you.”

She didn’t seem too convinced, but she didn’t run away. Maybe because the cold wouldn’t let her move.

It was then I remembered that she was naked. I turned to hide my discomfort before the scandalous exposure of her most noble parts. I took off my jacket and set it around her shoulders. Fortunately, she was at least a head shorter than me, and my jacket fit her like a dress.

“Th-thank you.” she whispered, her teeth chattering.

“Come here, sweetheart.” I said “You need a little heat.”

I settled my fuse on my back and took her in my arms. She didn’t even deign to complain about it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...” she repeated, snuggling into my chest. She was very light.

On the way home, I couldn’t help but think about the strange situation I had found myself in. I had gone out with the intention to hunt a deer, but I was returning to my home with a young woman suffering from hypothermia, myself having just killed three men. A curious day, to say the least.

“Let’s talk a little, sweetheart.” I said cheerfully. “It would be a shame to have killed those men only to have you die in your sleep.”

My laughter echoed in the empty landscape.

“I’m Alastor, my dear. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. May I ask you your name?”

“Charlotte Magne.” she gathered her strength to say.

“That is a beautiful name, my dear. Very appropriate, truly.”

“I hate it. It’s too big for me.” she said, her voice muffled by my jacket.

“ _The Warrior_.” I said, savoring the words on my tongue, “If you allow me to say, you give honor to the greatness of that name. Today you fought to stay alive with near success.” I laughed.

She was silent.

We quickly arrived at my cabin and I set her gently in front of the chimney. I lit a fire and went to the closet to find blankets and one of my nightgowns for her to wear.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her, winking at her.

She looked at me and sheepishly nodded.

I headed to the kitchen to prepare a quick gumbo recipe. In the absence of deer meat, shrimp was an excellent substitute.

An evening in front of the fire was enough to help that girl gain some color in her cheeks. And I could give witness to the fact that she was almost fine after eating a fourth bowl of the gumbo I had made her (the recipe courtesy of my mother).

Although, I had to admit, it took her longer than expected to allow me to treat the injuries on her back. After denying me many times, she could no longer hide how much it hurt her, and she finally agreed to my help. She turned her back to me and took of the nightgown, her face red.

I noted in detail how much those men had hurt her. She had little strips of raw flesh detached at the top of her shoulder blades, and her long hair was matted with her dried blood. We shared long minutes of silence. I sowed the open wounds and healed the bruises, and she hardly complained. Her mind seemed to wander elsewhere.

“It’s done.” I had said to her when I finished sowing the last of her wounds. “ I believe if it heals well, your back will be decent again after a short while.”

“Thank you.” she replied quietly.

I weighed my next words.

“Incidentally, they didn’t actually manage to defil-?”

“No! For the love of God, no!” she exclaimed, red in the face “My chastity is still intact, sir! I managed to escape while they were removing their overalls!”

“Blessed garments!” I said, smiling.

I took a bowl of water and a rag and started wiping the dried blood off her skin.

“So...” I said as I cleaned her. “What do you plan on doing now?”

She did not respond immediately. She looked at the ground with tears of pain in her eyes.

“I don’t know.” Charlotte said. “My aunt and uncle gave me away and fled to France. If I go back now, the former Magne plantation workers will probably recognize me and try to do the same to me as those men from before.”

“I thought it was your parents who gave you away.” I said, lifting an eyebrow as I continued to smile.

“My parents loved me.”

She sniffed as she tried to hold back tears that threatened to fall.

“Those two were not my parents.” she said, “My parents died eight years ago in a car accident. The car rolled and they were thrown from the automobile. The impact killed my mother instantly, and my father died later from complications with his head injuries.”

I carefully wiped away the blood remaining between the points of one of her larger wounds.

“I believe I heard about this accident several years ago.” I told her. “The car derailed down the slope on the side of the northern road, correct?”

She nodded. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

“My uncle, Michael Magne, was my father’s elder brother. He and his wife were to take over the cotton farm until I was old enough to marry and inherit it, according to the lawyer’s instructions regarding my father’s will. But the crisis left us in ruin before that could happen.”

“Before you could marry, or before they could inherit the farm?” I said with a laugh.

“Both,” she said with a shadow of a smile. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I assume that, because of the way they gave me to those men to save themselves, they never intended to give me my inheritance.

And I’m certain that an accident or a trip abroad with no sight of return would have befallen me before I married.”

I closed the medicine box and stood up.

“In fact, I wish I was dead now...” she said with a pained expression. She began to sob, hunching over on the floor.

I leaned against the wall and watched her.

“Well, your current situation is almost the same as that of a dead man.” I said easily.

“Naked, pale, frozen, penniless, and at the mercy of one who takes pity on your poor bones.”

She frowned at me and donned the nightgown again. I laughed at her indignant expression.

“I believe I have a deal you might like.” I said, approaching her and kneeling in front of her.

She looked at me expectantly.

“You can stay here, if you’d like.” I looked at her with intrigue. “You’d only have to take care of the cleaning and food, in the end. Basically, the little details of what it means to run a household. I am a busy man and I need someone to help me with what I can’t manage to do.”

Her mouth dropped slightly in shock.

“You want me to be your... your slave?” she said, blinking in disbelief.

“Well, technically not,” I said, showing my teeth. “You would be more like my servant. I would make sure you’re never left wanting for food and shelter, and I could give you a salary for your needs.”

I took the rifle and leaned on it, like one would a cane.

"And, most importantly, I, and my friend here, would provide you with protection. Everyone wins!”

She seemed hesitant. She bit at her thumbnail as she weighed my proposal.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, sir?” she said cautiously.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, my dear, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already.”

My answer seemed enough for her, but she remained hesitant.

“Sweetheart, are you seriously considering rejecting my offer in your current condition?” I said, squinting in amusement.

“No!” she yelled suddenly. “It’s just...! You’re very generous, but I don’t know anything about being a servant.”

“You’ve always had them, haven’t you?” I said, jokingly.

“Well, technically yes, but...” she said, frowning.

“Splendid!” I said, “You know how a servant should behave toward their master, the rest you can learn as you go along.”

I made a gesture with my hand to wave off its importance.

“I will teach you how to cook, to clean, and to iron my clothes just how I like it. I enjoy a good challenge, and your only goal in life will be to keep me happy.”

She was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath.

I guess she thought it was a better option than becoming a prostitute or committing suicide. Dying of hunger in the streets probably wasn’t an attractive alternative, either.

“Alright, I agree to your terms.” She said with determination.

“So, it’s a deal then?” I said, extending my hand to her.

There was an instant of doubt in her eyes, but she took my hand firmly. I shook it to close the deal.

“Fantastic!” I exclaimed, getting to my feet. “We’ll talk about the details tomorrow. Now is the time to rest so you can regain your strength. You can sleep in the guest room from now on. We get up at 5:30 am!”

She looked at me and burst into tears. I extended a handkerchief from my shirt, and she took it to dry her face.

“Thank you, Mister Alastor...” she whimpered.

“Think nothing of it, my dear.” I said, stroking the top of her head.

***

The sound of the dinner bell woke me from my thoughts. That was Charlotte, telling me that the food was ready.

I smiled. It was best to not keep her waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY IN ENGLISH !!!!  
> I hope you can enjoy more comfortably for those who read my fanfic "El taxidermista" in Spanish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035/chapters/51446338
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Sígueme en Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19  
> Follow them on twitter!!!
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	2. The way she looks at him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has some things to say.

I rang the bell for dinner and took the apron off my waist to hang it. I approached the radio to change the station to a soft jazz. The table was already served for us both and the jambalaya was simmering.

Despite me being the housemaid, Mister Alastor had insisted that we share the same table from the first day. It was a peculiarity that I had never seen allowed before in my past wealthy life. The servants ate apart, and never at the same table as their master. But Mister Alastor liked a good chat after dinner, so it seemed ridiculous that with just the two of us at home we couldn't share a nice chat while we ate.

Thanks to that custom he had, little by little, we were able to get to know each other better.  
Mister Alastor was extravagant, to say the least. A reserved man in his thoughts, who had an eternal smile adorning his face. You never knew exactly what he was feeling or thinking.

He had a special fascination for hunting. Something I had to get used to from the day I started working in this house. His vast collection of deer head trophies and antlers on the walls was a bit intimidating at first. But I gradually accepted his hobby to the point of beginning to congratulate him on the specimens he managed to catch.

I also learned about his radio presenter job, which pleasantly surprised me. The first day I arrived I was so stunned by everything that had happened to me, that I hadn't noticed his voice was from the same Alastor that I heard daily in "The radio demon" show (a somewhat controversial name, sincerely). Where he narrated the morning news and presented the great jazz hits that accompanied the majority of citizens during their daily work.

I must admit that I felt excited within my pathetic situation. For years I have been listening to Mister Alastor during my free time at the Magne Mansion. The whole time he made me laugh with his particular sense of humor. He was very intelligent and there was no doubt that his histrionic personality was ideal in his work. But despite being always very expressive, his true thoughts were still an enigma.

I remember that during my first week of work, I realized that he had only one photo frame in the whole house. It was in an old picture on the mantelpiece where I could identify a beautiful, but melancholic woman with a child. Undoubtedly it was Mister Alastor and his mother. 

"A magnificent woman," he told me, “She taught me everything I know about life and cooking. I highly doubt that someone like her would end up in hell."

The affection he portrayed when he spoke about his mother made me feel unworthy that he allowed me to wear her old clothes. The least I felt I could do was take care of the clothes as much as possible.

That same week, I asked him if he had a family of his own. A man his age regularly already had a wife and children; to this, he laughed mockingly.

“Oh, no, no, no. Children, never, my dear. ” he had answered me.

“Oh.” I had said to him, “So, do you plan to marry someone soon?”

I just got another laugh from him and he stroked my head like a master would a pet.

"How funny you are, a treasure!" he said before leaving the place, ending the conversation.

I sighed at the memory and looked up the stairs. He must still be getting dressed.

I went back to the kitchen to turn off the fire and uncover the pot. The magnificent smell of Jambalaya hit my nose and I smiled. I was sure it had turned out very well. My cooking skills were constantly improving and Mister Alastor was my best critic.

He had taught me how to cook with a lot of patience. He handled the meat-cutting knives like he had a lifetime of practice, and showed the correct portions of the recipes, the indicated temperature and the time of each preparation. It was amazing that a gentleman like him liked to cook. 

"So, you bend your fingers and prop your knuckles like that, honey." He had told me while teaching me how to cut carrots. "If you're not careful, a finger could fall on the food and it would be a shame for us to be called cannibals." He said laughing at his own joke.

He seemed really pleased with how fast I got the hang of things. I was like his little indoctrination experiment. And while he was very pleased with my quick progress, he also found my failures in the learning process tremendously funny. Apparently my expressions of total frustration while failing over and over were quite amusing.

I put my whole heart into learning. I wanted to feel worthy for the vote of confidence that he had given me by accepting me here, despite not even knowing how to fold a garment. And I was really happy to feel his approval for my work.

He was different from the types of patrons that my uncle and his wealthy friends had been. More than once I witnessed how they had unleashed their frustrations by beating upon their servants and slaves, even when they had done nothing wrong. They always told me that they were scum that deserved nothing more than our own shit for the mere fact of them existing. But I never shared that philosophy. It contrasted too much with that of my father, who, while demanding, did not get to the point where he was ruthless or unfair. He always gave everyone what they deserved. Something my father and Mister Alastor seemed to have in common.

Mister Alastor was a tolerant and adaptable man. I found out the day after I arrived, after I had taken scissors from the kitchen and clumsily cut my hair full of dried blood down to my shoulders. I wanted to change my appearance so that I would not be so easily recognized when I had to go around the city. The moment he saw me, he, with a smile, simply congratulated me on my new style.  
He was also a man of strict rules. 

One of them was that he did not like to be touched. It was okay if he wanted to touch you to the point where your personal space was uncomfortably being invaded, but he couldn't be touched if he didn't want to be. The times I accidentally touched him, he had removed my hand gracefully and distanced himself from me.

The second rule was another prohibition: I couldn't go to a small area behind his taxidermy workshop in the basement. It was a door at the end of the room that he sometimes entered and spent long hours there. Sometimes, he'd arrive very late from work, give me a quick greeting, and go to that room in a hurry, not to leave until the next day. In the morning, during breakfast, I noticed his exhausted face and dark circles, but his humor remained charming and lively as if he had had a restful sleep.

And the third, but most important rule, was to never insist on a question. If I had trivial doubts, he would answer me patiently until I was satisfied. But, if he didn't want to clarify a question that arose from me, the best thing was to not mention it again.

In conclusion, if I followed those little rules, living with him was great.

Mister Alastor also seemed to enjoy my company and I had more than one chance to tell him about me during our dinner talks. He was especially interested in my past and what kind of life I had had before our first meeting. . . I told him that I was homeschooled and took singing and piano lessons. I also attended tea parties frequently and made some trips to Europe.

"Just look at the time!" he had once said, “I can't believe it's already midnight! Time flies when you're having fun!”

That's how we lived daily. It was almost as if we were friends, instead of a master and his servant.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs woke me up from my thoughts. I looked up to him and saw that he was already dressed, smiling and with his hair wet.

Mister Alastor elegantly sat himself at the head of the table, humming. 

“Fresh and clean!" he exclaimed, looking at me, “I appreciated the sprigs of lavender in the bathtub. They do miracles to my poor shoulders”.

I smiled as I served him a hearty plate of Jambalaya. He put a napkin around his neck and waited for me to sit next to him with my plate. 

"Bon appetit!" he said in good spirits and ate a large spoonful of stew, "Splendid! My congratulations, my dear, ” he said, leaning towards me.

My heart skipped a beat and I felt the heat reach my cheeks. 

"Really? I'm glad you like it!" I said, smiling with pleasure, "We'll get up early tomorrow morning, I forbid ourselves from ending a Sunday without a good meal."

He chuckled. 

"You have a point, darling," he said as he continued eating.

I gave my stew a taste. It really was delicious.

The radio station suddenly changed from a sweet jazz to a breaking news story. 

"We interrupt the transmission to report that the police have found two dead men in the northern part of the city. Richard Liemond, 45, and Theodore Johnson, 52. Both are wanted for having beaten to death a 17-year-old man and abusing his fiancée on May 22. Authorities indicate that they must have been killed at least a week ago, given the state of decomposition in which the bodies were found. Everything indicates that it is another work of the serial killer known as ‘The Vigilante.’ According to reports, the bodies were found without eyes, heart, nails and the mouths of both victims sewn with threads. These crimes have the personalized stamp of ‘The Vigilante,’ so there is no doubt about their authorship. We will continue to update the information. Please stay tuned with the best of Louis Armstrong. ”

Amstrong's trumpets began to play in a merry tune on the radio.

"I hope to have more details of that case tomorrow in my news section," Mister Alastor said fluidly, "Sounds really intriguing."

I sighed and looked at my plate of food. 

"It's pretty scary to know that there is a killer on the loose," I said, "I've kept the front door with double lock almost every day, since they say he is known to be serial murder." 

"Oh, don't worry, my dear." He said waving his hand, dismissing my comment, "The Vigilante only attacks criminals. It isn't for nothing that he has earned that popular nickname. ”

"I know, but please promise me that you will be careful on the streets, Mister Alastor," I worried, “The attacks don't seem to have a time or place. As soon as the opportunity is given, the killer attacks. It wouldn't be good for you to cross his path when he wants to do one of his murders outside of his 'code of ethics', as they say. ”

He snorted in amusement. 

"I promise I will be careful." He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder in a conciliatory way. I smiled back at him.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you something," he said, cutting a piece of bread, "Mimzy told me that she intended to change out the piano in her saloon."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that Miss Mimzy is doing well despite the crisis." I answered sincerely.

"You shouldn't worry about that, sweetheart. People are always willing to pay for entertainment and sex when they are bored with their monotonous life, even when they have nowhere to fall dead. Her place is not going to go under anytime soon,” he simply said.

I blushed. Miss Mimzy's place was a music show hall, live singing, choreographic dancing, good food, alcohol, and lots of laughter. It was a lovely business to which I had sometimes accompanied Mister Alastor to review the earnings of the month. He was an investor in Mimzy's business and he liked to personally inspect that everything was properly managed.

During the day, everything was very magical. On several occasions, we stayed to see the show after finishing the paperwork with Miss Mimzy.

But, during the nights, everything changed. After they had finished their artistic numbers, the majority of the dancers would participate in prostitution. They would sleep with the clients who would come to to enjoy the show, but could also pay for additional services. According to what I had heard Alastor himself say, the dancers were used to sleeping with those who were interested; they caused the clients to drink in excess if they weren't motivated, or if they didn't find the candidate pleasing. They wouldn't miss out on the opportunity to steal their money, later creating a scene where the men would wake up assured they had had a great time with the girl, and just didn't remember anything due to their hangovers. Generally, the girls would leave the client's clothes disheveled, with some of their underwear in the pocket of their client's jacket alongside a note kissed with lipstick, saying that they yearned for another night like the one they had.

"So, back to the point, I asked Mimzy if I could go and try the piano she was going to throw away, to see if we could keep it."

"A PIANO?! REALLY?!" I squealed with immense excitement and jumped to my feet.  
Immediately shame washed over me, and I sat back down, smiling nervously. 

"Excuse my sudden enthusiasm, please." I said quietly. 

"I like your enthusiasm," he said quietly, putting his hand under my chin and raising my gaze to look at him.

I pursed my lips and turned my attention to my food again. Those gestures were subtle but powerful, and always made me feel butterflies in my stomach.

"Tomorrow, we will go see it." He continued as if nothing had happened, "I know how much you long to play the piano again, so I would rather you go with me to take a look at it."

I nodded vigorously. 

"I will be delighted to accompany you!" I said, smiling.

We resumed dinner again. But, I couldn't help but mention something that crossed my mind. 

"It will be a difficult task to get to this part of the forest with the piano." I mentioned to him.

Mister Alastor's house was almost hidden in the forest. It took about half an hour by foot to reach the most populated part of the city in order to buy groceries. It was a pleasant hike during most months except winter, when the rain would make the trail prone to falls.

"That problem is for the carriers, and it's a fair price to pay considering that it is a gift for you my dear," he simply said.

The impact of those words stunned me. Did he buy the piano thinking of me?

"But...! I-I can't accept that!” I stammered.

He chuckled. 

"My dear, you deserve to be pampered from time to time."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I wanted to hug him, but he wouldn't like it. So, I just jumped in my seat and massaged my smiling cheeks. I squealed with happiness.

"I can't believe it! I'll be able to play the piano again! It's like a dream! Thank you very much, sir!" 

"I'm glad you like it," he said with a satisfied smile, taking another sip from his plate, “I hope you can delight me with some of the musical pieces you know. It will be two years since you came to this house and it seemed fair to celebrate. ”

Two years already. I was deeply moved that he remembered. 

"Oh! Do you want me to prepare today's deer for tomorrow's dinner? I will use one of the new recipes and I promise it will taste great!" I said enthusiastically. 

"No need, darling, rather I would be delighted if you would accompany me to eat at a restaurant in the city." He clasped his hands while looking at me.

That was too much for my heart. I think I tried to stutter affirmations, mixed with thanks, all the while rejecting the offer at the same time. I was an amalgam of meaningless babbling. 

"Is that a yes or a no?" he said, bemused.

I ended up biting my lip and nodding fervently. 

"Excellent! Tomorrow I will come looking for you at five o'clock in the afternoon."

My heart was swollen with emotion. Dinner continued with laughter and a pleasant talk about a new play that was about to be released in the theater. 

"Well, it was a wonderful dinner as always, sweetheart," he said standing up gracefully, "But it is time to retire for the day." 

"Thank you very much sir," I said happily, "Have sweet dreams." 

"I wish you sweet dreams too. See you at 5:30 in the morning! ” And he went to his room.

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if the hope I had in my heart was too naive.

I washed the dirty dishes and then I prepared myself for bed.

Once I got into my bed I pulled out my most recent secret from under the pillow: Mister Alastor's bloodstained jacket, the one I was supposed to throw away. Having something with his essence was very difficult to get a hold of, so I had hidden it in my room when he went to bathe.

I hugged the jacket and inhaled deeply, sinking my nose into the inner lining. Imagining myself sleeping next to him was a very recurring image lately, and having his aroma intoxicating me in the dark generated a sinful satisfaction so powerful that it should not have been typical of a lady.  
I felt like I should be embarrassed, getting excited about something like a teenager even though I was twenty-three years old. But I did not care. No one but me would know this.

I settled down to sleep clinging to Mister Alastor's jacket. As I felt myself descending into the dream realm, I could swear I saw a huge shadow looking at me with bright eyes from the wall opposite my bed. I sat up to get a better look, but the shadow was gone. I lied down again. It must have been my imagination.  
Finally, I fell asleep with a smile and the perfume of my beloved Mister Alastor tickling my nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can enjoy more comfortably for those who read my fanfic "El taxidermista" in Spanish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035/chapters/51446338
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	3. Sweet dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening encounter gives a small push in the right direction.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps on the ancient wood caused me to open my eyes suddenly. The room was still cast in the characteristic darkness of the hours before I normally woke.

How strange.

I took my glasses from the table and fit them to my face, picked up my shotgun from its place near my bed, and smiled. If it was a robber, he would be met with extremely bad luck.

“Oh, good,” I thought, “There will be one more addition to the long line leading to Hell.”

Very carefully, I approached the door, opening it a sliver. I blinked a few times to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the corridor.

It was then that I saw her. She was there. The clarity of her skin and hair gave her away despite the gloom of the night. Charlotte was standing in the middle of the hallway, barefoot and in her nightgown. It seemed as though the cold winter’s night meant nothing to her.

I tilted my head. It was unusual, but it made me happy to know it wasn’t a robber. Killing inside the house could lead to unnecessary blood spillage, and Charlotte would have to clean it up.

I left the shotgun propped against the wall.

“Wow! You’ve gotten up early today!” I exclaimed, leaving my room. I expected to spontaneously start and smile from her, but she didn’t answer me.

She remained motionless, her back to me. It seemed as though she hadn’t even heard my salutation.

“Did something happen to wake you, my dear?” I asked, approaching her.

She continued without answering me. I walked around her to face her, and that’s when I saw her. She kept her gaze on a point lost in space, inexpressive, her breathing slow. I waved my hand in front of her face, but her expression didn’t change. She swayed slightly from side to side.

It was then that I realized she was sleep walking.

I put my hand to my chin and leaned in close to her face to study her carefully. She didn’t flinch or blink, her mouth was slightly ajar, and she definitely wasn’t noticing me despite me being near centimeters away from her face. Furthermore, she was unnaturally freezing to the touch.

“Charlotte?” I whispered, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her a little.

It was if my voice had pulled her out of her trance. She collapsed to my chest and I managed to catch her light body before she crumpled to the ground.

I held her in my arms for a few moments. She complained slightly, but she seemed to still be sleeping.

Curious. Very curious.

Slowly, she started to mumble and move. She lifted her head from my chest and blinked a few times with difficulty, accustoming herself to the limited visibility that the night allowed her. She yawned and looked around, disoriented and with a sleepy expression.

Finally, her eyes fixed themselves on me and she smiled broadly at me. She looked like a small and defenseless fawn waking up.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” I told her, lifting and eyebrow, amused by her expression, “You should go back to bed. As much as I enjoy getting up early, having breakfast at two in the morning seems a little inappropriate.”

“Mister Alastor?” she said, confused, as she struggled to make me out in the dark, “Why would we...? Why are we here?”

“I don’t know either, sweetheart,” I said simply, shrugging, “It seems as though your body wanted to take a stroll around the house without your permission.”

I started to laugh.

She then saw that I was holding her within a firm embrace. She shifted uneasily in my arms and straightened. I swear I could see the brilliant blush that rushed to her face. She looked at me through the gloom, frowning and pursing her lips.

“Um... is this actually happening?” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Only if you believe so, my dear,” I said, winking at her.

I smiled mischievously, leaning into her suggestively.

“Or did you intend to give me a nocturnal visit in my room?”

She took a few seconds to process my words.

“Oh. OH!” She said, her eyes suddenly lighting up, “I see now, clearly. This has to be a dream, right?”

I held back a laugh, but I couldn’t help but continue the game.

“You caught me, sweetheart. I am nothing but a figment of your imagination,” I said, feigning guilt with a hand to my chest, “I’m here with you until your alarm wakes you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She lifted her gaze, obviously still groggy. She chuckled as she looked at me.

“This dream is so real!” she smiled broadly, her gaze remaining one of exhaustion.

“Well, then, I guess I should take advantage of it...” she said, determined, as she suddenly took my face firmly in her hands and planted a bold kiss upon my lips.

The action left me paralized. My eyes widened in surprise and my mind stopped working immediately. My obedient servant was happily breaking one of my strictest rules: that she couldn’t touch me unless I wanted to be touched. Regardless, there she was, kissing me intensely, her eyes closed, concentrating on her own personal pleasure. Charlotte’s soft lips pressed tightly against mine, her hands never leaving my cheeks. Her scent reached my nose; she smelled of lavender and caramel. I could hear the murmur of joy escaping her throat. I couldn’t remember the last time I had kissed someone, or if I had ever kissed more than just a kiss upon my mother’s cheek, or upon the knuckles of a lady in order to greet her. Nor had I remembered that skin to skin contact created such a powerful titillation within my stomach.

The kiss lasted for several seconds. It was only lip to lip contact, but it left me disarmed for a moment.

Suddenly, she pulled away from me, pushing my shoulders back. She gasped for air and sighed happily before looking back at me. Her dreamy gaze was lovely.

“Wow! I’ve wanted to do that for so long! I haven’t had a dream this vivid since I was a child!” she said, her eyelids heavy with sleep, but with her face an enormous smile of satisfaction.

She arranged the collar of my pajamas lovingly and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. My mouth was still, ridiculously, agape.

“I’ll see you later, darling,” she whispered, winking at me and tapping the tip of my nose with her finger.

She turned around and shuffled into her room.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, just before closing the door behind her.

I was genuinely happy that she left me alone in the darkness of that hallway, because I could feel my smile fall completely from surprise. I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair, trying to regain my composure. I cleared my throat.

“Well! I definitely didn’t expect that to happen!” I said, opening my eyes and returning my usual smile to my face.

I went humming into my room. I touched my thumb to my bottom lip and let loose a soft laugh.

She truly was very interesting. She was full of surprises, and so kind, too naive for her own good. It was as if she was an innocent light that attracted beings like me, who could hurt her if they wanted to. If I was any other type of master, the opportunity to satisfy vain, carnal desires in a creature as manageable as her would not have passed by after long. Forcibly and repeatedly, regardless of consent.

But, to see her smile was a gift. I didn’t deserve that from her. Although, I had to admit, it wasn’t a small number of times that those thoughts had slipped into my mind. With only us two, alon, in the house, with no other place of residence nearby. Nobody would know. Nobody would hear. I could try to take her at any moment, sheltering myself in the sincere affection that she had for me, and I was sure that she would never object.

So domitable. So pure. So at my mercy. Begging me with those eyes of prey to allow my predatory instinct to rise above her. To hunt her. To stain her...

Maybe I...

I squeezed my forearm with my hand, burying my nails until I bled. The pain caused me to regain reason.

Calm. Not that way. That wasn’t my style.

I had to inhale deeply several times to focus.

I returned to the point at hand; the fact that Charlotte had been in a dreaming trance was curious, to say the least. I never remembered her having slept walk before. Furthermore, Charlotte didn’t seem the type who knew how to pretend in order to achieve her personal gain. Her naivete was so fun at times. As I was a professional liar myself, I could tell when somebody wasn’t telling me the truth. She remained the purest soul I had ever met.

I became conscious of the tick-tocking of my clock, and it pulled me from my thoughts. I decided that it was probably better to continue meditating it during the day, and I returned to my bed.

It took me longer than I would ever admit to finally go back to sleep.

A few hours later, I got up with my alarm. The subtle rays of sunlight shined through my window, and I could hear the singing of birds. I stretched, extending my arms, and hopped out of bed.

I started thinking about Charlotte. I hoped that my sweet girl hadn’t suffered any consequence after what had happened simply mere hours before.

I approached my closet, dressing myself in my work clothes. It was then I noticed a brown paper bag that I had held onto for a few days. I chuckled. Oh, her face would be priceless. I hurried to the kitchen as stealthily as I could.

Charlotte’s carefree humming, the smell of fresh coffee, and buttered toast on the table all told me it was Monday morning.

I found myself relieved to see her so lively. Apparently, everything from the night before had been a mere dream for her.

I leaned against the door frame and quietly watched her, without interrupting. Her back was turned to me, and she was happily singing “Ain't Misbehavin” as she prepared a lunchbox for me. She seemed to be in a very good mood.

**I know for certain**

**The one I love**

**I'm through with flirtin'**

**It's just you I'm thinkin' of**

**Ain't misbehavin'**

**I'm savin' my love for you**

She closed my metal lunchbox. She whipped the air with a dishrag and cleaned the counter surface as she moved her hips.

**Like Jack Horner**

**In the corner**

**Don't go nowhere**

**What do I care?**

**Your kisses are worth waitin' for**

**Believe me**

She whirled around with her eyes closed as she closed her fist to mimic a microphone.

**I don't stay out late**

**Don't care to go**

**I'm home about eight**

**Just me and my radio**

**Ain't misbehavin'**

**I'm savin' my love for youuuu**

She poured coffee into two mugs and turned around with the intent to pluck the dinner bell from off the table. It was then that she saw me.

She screeched in surprise, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Did you have sweet dreams last night?” I asked her, smiling.

“Mister Alastor! Good morning!” she said awkwardly, “Um... did I wake you up?”

“Not really, my dear,” I replied, amused, “But it wouldn’t have bothered me if your voice was what brought me back to the world of the living. Bravísimo!” I began to applaud.

Charlotte blushed at my compliment and began to giggle nervously. Finally, she made a playful curtsy.

“Please, my good sir,” she said, smiling as she gestured for me to sit at the head of the table. I gladly obeyed her.

“I begin to suspect that teaching you taxidermy was a waste of time and potential, what with your voice,” I told her as she put my coffee mug in front of me.

“I should have gotten you that piano much sooner.”

“Oh, not at all! Taxidermy is easy for me, sir,” she said, waving her hands, “The thread and needle have been a constant in my life. It allowed me to embroider many flowers and cabins with my governess.”

She smiled sadly at me and put three spoonfuls of sugar in her coffee. The sugar was exclusively meant for Charlotte. I wasn’t much of a fan of sweet things; I preferred bitter tastes. My eyes strayed to Charlotte, who was sighing with satisfaction after her first sip of coffee.

 _Although, there’s an exception for everything_ , I thought, drinking from my own coffee.

“It’s cold today,” she commented as she brought her mug to her face, enjoying the steam as it hit her features.

I tilted my head with curiosity.

“I really don’t find it much colder than yesterday, my dear,” I said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Really?” she said incredulously, rubbing her arms, “I feel like I’m freezing. I woke up with cold feet and couldn’t get warm.”

I stood up and walked over to the stove. I put a few more logs into the flame, then sat back down.

“I will find you another blanket for tonight,” I said sympathetically.

“Thank you very much, sir,” she said. She smiled at me and returned to her coffee.

“I hope you don’t catch a cold this afternoon. Remember, we have to go have a look at that piano and later go out for dinner.”

Charlotte smiled widely.

“Of course, I couldn’t forget!” she said enthusiastically, “You put me in charge of getting everything ready early!”

“Splendid!” I said, grabbing my toast, “But tell me, my dear, what are you planning on wearing today?”

The question fell like a bucket of water. She put her hand to her mouth with an expression of utter panic. Apparently, what she was going to wear when we left hadn’t even crossed her mind. Most of the clothes Charlotte wore were inherited from my late mother. Fortunately, both had a similar body type, which was a great help considering that she had come to me, literally, naked. However, each garment was at least ten years old, and none of them seemed fitting for a young woman like her, much less an outing.

I chuckled.

“Might I assume you hadn’t thought about it?” I said, resting my chin on the back of my hand.

Charlotte shook her head. She seemed about ready to cry.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to go.” She said, discouraged, “It’s going to be an elegant place, and I’m sure I’ll just look silly next to you”

“That’s wacky nonsense!” I said, a little louder than I expected to, and she looked at me curiously. I cleared my throat.

I turned my face to look back at the brown bag I had left in the entrance to the kitchen. She followed my gaze until she saw it, too.

“What is that, sir?” she asked.

“You might want to take a look at it,” I said with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Ain't Misbehavin', Maxine Sullivan.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmS-bcT6mSs
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19
> 
> My fanfic "The Taxidermist" in Spanish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035/chapters/51446338


	4. Points of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two opposing opinions reach a point of understanding.

Mister Alastor looked at me with an expectant smile. I stood up and went to the brown paper bag that was on the floor, taking it. I pulled from it a beautiful red and black dress with a V-neckline and puffed sleeves.

“What...?” I whispered incredulously as I looked at the dress. It was new and on the label it said, in very elaborate italics, “Rosie´s Boutique.”

It couldn't be true. An original Rosie dress? I immediately continued digging into the bag.

There was a pair of black gloves with little bows on the wrists. And also a beautiful white fur scarf. There was a small purple package closed with a ribbon that turned out to contain new underwear and stockings. And at the bottom was a new pair of black, square-heeled shoes.

I stood up and turned to look at Mister Alastor, asking for an explanation. He looked at me with an amused expression, his head resting on his hand.

“Why...?” I tried to ask, “I-is this for me?”

“I was saving it for Christmas, but I figured tonight was the ideal time to give it to you,” he said, biting into his toast.

I kept looking at him in silence, without leaving my stupor.

“Rosie owed me a great favor,” he went on to say, downplaying the matter, “Think of it as a fair exchange. Although she charged me for the accessories separately.”

He took something out of his pocket and put it on the table. It was a pair of white pearl imitation earrings.

I felt like my words would not come out. I stood there with the dress in my hands. It was the first new dress I'd had in years, and I hugged it tight.

“So? What you think?” he said, tilting his head.

"This is amazing!" I said, unable to contain a big smile, “You shouldn't have bothered, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we are going out I will not allow you to ridicule yourself, you deserve the best of the best,” he said, spreading butter on his second toast, “Also, red looks good on you and we will be wearing matching attire. Rosie also has a suit for me that I must go to fetch from her locale after work. ”

I stroked the cloth over my body solemnly. It was really soft and the fabric fell elegantly. I felt I would never have something so beautiful in my life again. I attached it to my chest and spun around. The movement of the skirt was exquisite.

"You really don't know how much I appreciate this, Mister Alastor,” I said, barely able to contain my emotion.

He just smiled and continued to eat breakfast as if nothing happened. I carefully stuffed the things into the bag and joined him. I was euphoric. I couldn't believe I would wear a Rosie dress again. I continued my breakfast with a big smile.

Rosie was the only person that Mr. Alastor and I knew in common. Every dress I wore in the best years of the Magne estate had been made by her. She was a wonderful dressmaker. Eccentric, friendly in her own way, and with refined taste. A very beautiful and tall woman who always wore suits that covered her from her neck to her feet, and a huge hat that would accompany her even indoors.

Rosie was also friends with Mister Alastor. Once, when she was making a custom suit for Mister Alastor, he had asked me to go to Rosie's place to give him my aesthetic opinion. I commented to him, excited, that I also knew her, and she seemed happy to see me. Although, she was very surprised that I now worked as a housemaid. Rosie always thought that I had managed to escape with my family to France as soon as the stock market had collapsed. When I told her my story, she promised not to say anything about my whereabouts.

Thinking about her, I couldn't help but ask a question, and it burst from my mouth.

“By the way, is Mrs. Rosie... doing alright?” I asked cautiously.

“Why do you ask, dear?” he said nonchalantly as he checked the time on his pocket watch.

“I mean, what happened to Mr. Franklin…” I said, almost in a whisper, afraid to invoke the dead, “is she still in mourning?”

“Oh no, my dear.” He gave me a wide smile, “That Franklin is gone, and it is the best thing that could have ever happened to Rosie.”

I opened my eyes wide. Mrs. Rosie had been widowed three weeks ago. Her husband had been one of The Vigilante’s most recent victims. His body had been found floating in the harbor, bloated, without eyes or a heart, with his mouth sewn shut, and, strangely, without his liver, according to the newspaper report. This was the only case where The Vigilante seemed to have removed a liver.

I couldn't believe what Mr. Alastor was saying to me.

“He was killed! How could she not be feeling sorrowful without her life partner?”

Suddenly, Mister Alastor gave an explosive laugh. He had to lean to one side of the table and cover his face with one hand to try to lessen the intensity of his laughter. He took a few moments to recover and regulate his breathing. I looked at him with indignation.

“Oh! How funny!” he said, taking off his glasses to wipe away the tears that escaped with the back of his hand, “Oh, my sweet Charlotte, thank you for this good morning laugh. Your naivety is really refreshing.”

“I can't believe what you’re saying, sir,” I said, pursing my mouth, “Mrs. Rosie must be very sad about the loss of her husband.”

“You're wrong there, sweetheart." He shook his head, without losing his composure, “Rosie has a lot of things that matter to her in her life, and Franklin was definitely not one of them.”

“That can't be,” I said, annoyed, “They were husband and wife. They had to care for and love each other until the end of their days. It is part of the nuptial agreement.”

His was a contrary perspective to everything that had been instilled in me as a law of life, and that seemed implausible to be considered. I was always taught that marriage was the holiest of unions and a public declaration of the love that a couple had. That Rosie was acceptant with her husband's death seemed ridiculous to me.

“Do you not believe in marriage?” I said without thinking.

“Oh, men marry out of fatigue and women out of curiosity. The only thing they agree on is that, over the years, they are both disappointed,” he said, sure of his words, “and that’s only if there are no financial interests involved. Those marriages generally last longer.”

Mister Alastor had never been married, within my knowledge. However, his definition of such a sacred union made me suspect that someone in his immediate environment made him distrust the holy covenant of love.

“A lasting relationship is based on how sickly dependent you can be or how scared you are of dying alone,” he added.

“Don't you believe in love?” I asked, without realizing.

Mister Alastor snorted through his nose.

“Love is the consequence of certain actions and situations, my dear. So, I avoid it like the plague, ” he said, narrowing his eyes and smirking.

“Daddy said it takes two idiots for love to be born,” I said looking down, uncomfortable.

“Do I really look like an idiot to you?” he said, widening his smile.

I shut my mouth and shook my head in horror. I snatched my cup without thinking and took another sip in my coffee, just to do something else.

“So, taking into account what you think of marriage…” I said, still confused, "I still can't understand why Mr. Franklin and Mrs. Rosie's relationship had no real love.”

Mister Alastor seemed to ponder his next words, very carefully. He took a sip of coffee before continuing to speak.

“Have you ever seen Rosie's arms?” he said, without glancing up from his cup.

It was a strange question, but I was surprised that I didn't know how to answer it right away. Had I ever seen them? After straining my memory in meditation, I realized that, in all the years that I had known the best dressmaker in town, I had never seen her arms without long sleeves covering them. Even in times of the sweltering humid summer heat she had not allowed herself to wear lighter suits. In fact, the only exposed skin that I had ever seen of her was that of her face and hands. The rest of her body was always covered.

“No.” I finally admitted.

He smiled triumphantly. He took the last sip of his coffee and sighed with satisfaction.

“Franklin mistreated her for years,” he said standing up, “He beat her on all parts of her body that could be covered with cloth so as not to raise suspicions of abuse."

“She was...?” I said, scandalized “Impossible! Why would he do something like that to his wife?”

“Rosie's work became more and more valuable over time and Franklin profited from Rosie's talent,” he shrugged, “He never worked and forced her to work on threats of beatings and starvation if she did not finish all the pending work. It didn't matter how exhausting it was, or how late it was when she had finished. She had to be able to deliver each order on time. Therefore, her hands were never mistreated even though gloves exist; her fingers were too valuable.”

He took one of his coats from the rack and put it on.

“And much of Rosie's store profits were lost on Franklin's horse racing bets,” he continued, looking at me, raising an eyebrow, “Not to mention all the prostitutes on the dock that he slept with and spent money on in abundance, while Rosie kept working late. She was tired of him. And you can question everything I've told you, but it was she herself who told me this after he died.”

"It can't be..." I whispered in horror, covering my mouth with my hands.

"It can be, and it was,” he said simply, putting on his hat, “That's why I told you that 'The Vigilante’ did more good than harm to Rosie. At least, now she can make use of the money produced by her own work and enjoy it.”

He looked at me with amusement when he saw my sad face. Mr. Franklin had always seemed polite and charming to me the times I had visited the store. To think that his attitude was nothing more than a façade, since he had been an abusive and promiscuous subject, shocked me and made me question my belief in the perfect union between two people that I had idealized during my whole life. I felt stupid. I didn’t like to think that love and respect in marriage wasn’t a sacred law for everyone, but it was naive to think, after everything I had seen throughout my life, that a marriage could not be violent, enslaving and without a pinch of decency.

“Do you still think they were soulmates?” he said with a mocking smile.

“No,” I admitted. I stood up, took Mister Alastor's lunchbox, and handed it to him.

He looked at me curiously.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I feel silly for believing they were in a happy marriage,” I said with my head down, “but now it makes sense to me why the only times I saw Mr. Franklin was when he was going to withdraw money from the box and encourage Mrs. Rosie to continue working, only to leave.”

“And I'm sure he’d hit her after he lost all that money gambling,” he said with a slight laugh.

I sighed, disappointed.

“I suppose it is delusional to believe that celebrating a wedding magically guarantees happiness for a lifetime,” I said.

“Well, they met three months before getting married,” he said, “You can't call that a prudent time to ensure that you at least have common interests. It was also Rosie's fault for not knowing how to choose.”

“Makes sense,” I said reflectively as I put a finger on my chin, “Choosing carefully who you are willing to share your days with is quite time consuming.”

“You got the point,” he said with a smirk.

I said nothing. I still felt helpless.

“Don't feel bad for Rosie,” he said, adjusting his deer leather bag, “It's okay. What's more, she’s better than ever. It is not for nothing that she continues her business, and with great success.”

“I suppose you’re right. Mr. Franklin didn’t deserve to be with her. She must have been very unhappy in such a marriage,” I concluded in annoyance.

He patted me lightly on the head like one would a pet.

“Well, you don't have to feel that way. Marriage is not a guarantor of happiness, prosperity, or company,” he considered, “Also…”

I looked at him, intrigued.

“You don't need to be married to live happily with someone,” he concluded simply.

I was surprised by his reasoning, but I thought I understood what he meant. I smiled at him and nodded.

“Well, I have to go now,” he said cheerfully, “The news just out of the oven will be given during my section at eight o'clock. Don't you dare miss it, darling!”

“Oh! Of course!” I said enthusiastically, “By the way, would it be ok if we meet outside of Mimzy’s Palace this afternoon?”

“Mhm? Would you not like me to come and get you, sweetheart?” he said, tilting his head curiously, “It's not proper for a gentleman to not call upon the lady.”

“It's more practical,” I said, holding up a finger to emphasize my point, “For me to wait for you outside the venue is more comfortable than you coming to get me. I just have to take the tram to Bourbon Street.”

He seemed to ponder it, one hand on his chin.

“Fair enough,” he finally said with a smile, “Then don't forget to bring money for the tram.”

I nodded, smiling at him.

“See you at five o'clock then!” He said goodbye to me and left for work.

I sighed when he finally closed the door. I looked at the clock on the wall and it was only 6 am. Mister Alastor's work was in the central part of the city, only connected by the tram, whose closest station was a thirty-minute walk away. Many times, living so deep in the forest was somewhat uncomfortable; we were isolated from everything. Despite that, the tranquility of the forest and the proximity to the Mississippi River allowed an enviable peace in comparison to those who resided in the heart of the city.

I had once asked Mister Alastor if he had ever considered living in a more urbanized area.

“I don't see the point,” he had told me, “How could I go hunting so far from the deers’ habitat?”

Deer hunting didn't seem like a valid reason to live so isolated. I figured he wasn’t being entirely honest, and maybe there were more reasons he had reserved himself.

I went to the kitchen and started quickly with my chores. The cold that I felt still lasted from the previous night and accompanied me throughout my day. I stood at least five times in front of the stove while sweeping, to try and warm up, to no avail. My hands were still frozen.

I went out in my old coat to feed the chickens in the corral. Those hens didn't lay a lot of eggs for some reason, but it was nice to see when the chicks hatched.

“Razzle and Dazzle! Come here!” I said, opening the door of the small stable at the back of the house.

Mister Alastor's two little female goats came to my call. They both gave us plenty of milk, and we could make cheese and butter too. Those beautiful nannies were very loving to me and I liked having them around. On more than one occasion, Mister Alastor had tried to prepare them for dinner, however, he had decided against the idea at my constant pleas for him not to. I did not want to lose them so soon, much less for a meal. After giving them some salt from my hand, I stroked them a bit, and went back into the house.

When it was 8 am I turned on the radio and prepared to wash the dishes with the freshly boiled water. I felt a nice tickle as I dipped my cold hands in.

A cheery tune played at the start of Mister Alastor's section and I immediately paid attention.

“Good morning, dear audience!” I heard Mister Alastor cheerfully say on the radio, “Today begins a new week in the beautiful city of New Orleans! It's 50 degrees Fahrenheit right now, so don't forget to bring your jackets to work, folks! Accompanying you in your mundane tasks... will be your server and morning presenter: The Radio Demon!” Recorded cheers sounded in the background.

I smiled. I loved those special effects that gave dynamism to his narrative.

“And what a surprise do we have waiting for us in today's heading of “New Orleans Courier?” he said casually. I could imagine him leaning against the back of his seat with the newspaper open.

“‘The Vigilante’ attacks again. Well, that sounds interesting.” Recorded voices murmured expectantly in the background.

I stacked the first clean dishes on the table.

“‘The Vigialnte,’ the enigmatic serial killer, has claimed new victims,” he read, “Richard Liemond and Theodore Johnson, two fugitives from justice wanted for rape and murder, were found dead in the northern area, with clear signs of having succumbed at the hands of ‘The Vigilante.’ They are deaths number twenty-three and twenty-four attributed to the ‘avenger of those without justice.’”

“The bodies were found again without eyes, without hearts, without nails, and with their mouths sewn shut. No signs of self-defense were found, but everything indicates that they were alive when their organs were removed due to the amount of blood spilled at the meeting place.”

The recorded voices cried out in amazement.

“What a riddle, gentlefolk! Who in their right mind stands still while a murderer quietly takes away his eyes and heart? Did he drug them and attack them while they slept? Or is this guy some kind of hypnotist who keeps his targets from running away? You are free to draw your own conclusions, dear listeners. If you have any information on the whereabouts of ‘The Vigilante,” please contact the police by dialing 999 on the nearest public telephone.”

Spectral piano keys sounded to close the news.

I giggled anxiously. It was crazy to think that the victims gave themselves up voluntarily to the murderer, especially those who were charged for violent acts. However, there seemed to be no other logical explanation.

Mister Alastor’s broadcast continued for ten more minutes, where lighter topics were mentioned, such as the schedules for the delivery of community food in the camps, the results of the baseball games on Sunday and the weather conditions of the following days.

When I finished tidying up the kitchen, I continued to clean the living room. Mister Alastor started the morning music section and presented ‘A Kiss to Build a Dream On.’ As I swept and listened to the song, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the confusing images from the night before. I had had a wonderful vivid dream, where I had kissed my dear Mister Alastor intensely. Never in my life would I behave so openly with him about what he made me feel, so the dream left a liberating feeling in my chest. Also, I was happy to see that my main fear, Mister Alastor’s rejection, was not reflected in my dream; his confused face had been completely adorable. I laughed in my reverie.

I knew it was stupid to wait for Mister Alastor to see me as more than his faithful servant. How I wished I had known him before the stock market crash, back when I was a girl with a promising future and something to offer. I would have been interesting and charming. We could have gone out dancing, going to the shows he liked so much, and I could have even invited him to travel to Broadway. Unfortunately, the circumstances had not been ideal for our paths to cross like that.

I was ashamed to admit that I was very concerned that one day Mister Alastor would arrive with a beautiful lady on his arm and introduce her to me as his future wife. I wouldn’t be able to do anything else but smile and watch how they built their happiness and a potential family right under my nose. Although I could not identify the level of sincerity that he had in his opinion about love and marriage, he left me the small hope that at least I could continue living with him, with no one else to occupy his heart. I must have been the most despicable human being for having such self-compassionate thoughts.

“Wasn't that great?” Mister Alastor said on the radio, “That Amstrong knows how to control the trumpet!" A recorded applause supported him

I looked at the time. It was barely 9 am. I felt that this day would be eternal. I wanted with all my heart to put on that beautiful dress and go on the date. I left to clean both my room and Mister Alastor's. I took more time than I usually did to clean and I was very rigorous with every detail and cleaning.

I quickly returned to the living room to check the time again. It was 9:20 in the morning.

Good Heavens. This would be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Don´t hate me. I wanted to use Razzle and Dazzle because I love them, but to have them in a house in the 1930s and not be eaten, they had to be female. Chapter 5 has been very funny and loooong to write, that's why I've been late with this one. 
> 
> This is the song that is playing on the radio.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHjZQb-kGek
> 
> (The definition of marriage that Alastor had is the same one that Oscar Wilde had :D)
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19
> 
> My fanfic "The Taxidermist" in Spanish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035/chapters/51446338


	5. Mimzy's Palace

I got off the streetcar on Bourbon Street that afternoon and removed a few specks of dust from my new red, black-lined coat that Rosie had tailored for me. She had presented me with an exquisite matching shirt and a black bow tie. I chuckled. I was sure she’d be grateful that I went through so much trouble with my new outfit.

I walked confidently in the direction towards Mimzy’s Palace. The afternoon cold had subsided a bit with the spectacular sun from the day. I watched as various groups of men, young and old, directed themselves to my same destination. I smiled. It was incredible that the boredom of these citizens was so great that they never stopped attending the shows of the Mimzy Girls. Nevertheless, it was the main reason that I had decided to become an investor in her business. All due to that impulsive boredom to do crazy things, like spend an entire month of wages on worldly amusements.

I looked at the time on my watch. It was 4:56 pm. Just in time.

I finally arrived at my destination. It was a two story building, violet in color with neon lights on the door next to the entrance that spelled out “Mimzy’s Palace” in cursive. Standing outside, I could hear the revelry of music and the shrill voices of the clients.

I took a look around the hall, trying to find Charlotte, but it seemed as though she hadn’t arrived yet.

“Heeeey...” I suddenly heard behind me.

I spun around to find myself facing none other than Angel Dust, one of the newest additions to the local cast. The young Italian man, extravagant and feminine, with a reputation for being really promiscuous when it came to prositution.

The bloke (or so he seemed) was quite peculiar in appearance. He was taller than me, and was looking at me lasciviously. He had a mop of straw-colored hair, prominent freckles, and a slim figure. He wore what looked like the top of a pink striped tuxedo fit with a bow tie, a leotard that left nothing to the imagination, and long black high-heeled boots. Despite all that, the strangest thing about him was that he had one blue and one brown eye. Definitely a very rare specimen.

"Were you looking for someone, honey?" He said, trying to put his hand on my shoulder, but I managed to slip away before he could touch me.

“I am indeed looking for someone, but I regret to inform you that it is not you,” I said maliciously.

“How boring!” he said, fixing his pompadour, “You’re Alastor, right? I remember you from the last time you came to go over the earnings with Miss Mimzy.” he added.

“And you are Angel Dust, I presume?" I said with a mocking smile, “Or should I say, Antho-”

“Don't mention my real name!” he said,scandalized, “Around here I’m Angel Dust," he added, raising his chin.

I widened my mocking smile.

“Since you were an investor in a place like this, I’d hoped you would be something more interesting,” he rolled his eyes, “Although, I assure you that I could do things that no girl could do to you,” he winked shamelessly at me.

“I reaffirm: I am not interested.” I said for sure, “And what about you, my effeminate fellow?” I added.

"I can suck your dick," he said playfully, showing his teeth.

The repudiation strained my smile.

"HA! No." I said curtly.

“It’s your loss,” he smirked

“C’mon, I’m inviting ya in!” I heard someone outside, “Don’t be so shy.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m waiting for someone,” I heard a familiar voice respond.

I turned to see a lovely lady being harassed by a guy in a tuxedo. IT took me a few seconds to realize that it was Charlotte. She looked… spectacular. My mother’s old dresses did not do her figure justice. The red and black contrasted beautifully with her pale white skin, and the heels and gloves accentuated her natural elegance. Her hair, which she generally wore without paraphernalia, had a precious arrangement of curls to one side, highlighting her lovely face. Even without makeup, the color of her cheeks resonated her enviable natural beauty. Without a doubt, there stood Charlotte, the distinguished lady of the extinct Magne household. I could understand why the man was being so insistent about inviting her in.

“I don’t believe you! If you were my date, I wouldn’t take my eyes off you!” he said smoothly.

“It’s true, I’m waiting for someone,” Charlotte replied, “He just hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Those who keep their lady waiting for them aren’t worthy of her attention. If you’d come have a few drinks with me, you wouldn’t have any problems forgetting that punk,” he answered with a wink.

“I already told you no.” Charlotte said more firmly.

I took a few steps in her direction and put my hand on her shoulder, bringing her closer to me. She looked at me and relaxed when she saw who I was.

“I’m here, Charlotte. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” I said, calmly. I then turned to the despicable figure before me, “Are you offering something to my date, sir?”

“No, sir. I was just asking the lady something trivial. Have a good evening,” he said awkwardly as he entered the premises.

I heard Charlotte give a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Mister Alastor,” she said to me with a smile.

I pulled away from her and took her hand.

“You can’t blame those miserable insects for hovering around the light you radiate, sweetheart,” I said as I proceeded to kiss her hand, “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Her eyes widened at the compliment, and I believed to have never seen a blush as stark as the one on her cheeks.

“You look stunning as well, sir!” she said, a little too loudly than intended, and some of the folk in the hall turned around out of curiosity.

She bit her lip nervously and I chuckled.

“Rosie’s work has a quality seal,” I said, grabbing one of the lapels.

“Red looks very nice on you, Mister Alastor,” she said enthusiastically. How adorable.

“Oh, now I see!” we heard a voice say behind us. Angel had returned.

“So you like girls like her. You have refined taste, Alastor, although she’s a little too angelic for my tastes,” he said, pinching one of Charlotte’s cheeks.

“It’s not what you think, sir!” Charlotte told him nervously.

Angel gave her a disinterested glance, then looked to me, and back at her.

“Mhm... Hey, sweetie, I don’t usually hang out around chicks, but if you ever get tired of this flat tire, I have a special rate for the scorned ladies,” he winked, adding with a haughty smile, “Nothing that a good night of the best sex in the world can’t fix.”

“Don’t take anything he says seriously, Charlotte,” I answered in annoyance.

Charlotte was flushed to the tips of her ears at that kind of offer. I put a hand on her shoulder again protectively.

“Charlotte, this is Angel Dust,” I coldly introduced, “Angel Dust, this is Charlotte.”

“Um ... Nice to meet you. I’m Charlotte, Mr. Alastor's maid, “ Charlotte said, coming out of her stupor and extending her hand.

Angel accepted it with a skeptical look. He looked at Charlotte from head to toe.

“A maid? Are you sure?” he said, raising an eyebrow and pulling his face closer, “Since when do maids wear satin and get invited out by their bosses?”

He then looked at me and made a nasty suggestive look.

“The way in which I dress my servants is a matter that only concerns me, my esteemed gentleman,” I said through my teeth as I glared.

“Sure, there's nothing fishy about the intentions behind an expensive gift from your boss,” he laughed cheekily.

Charlotte seemed rather amazed by a character like him.

“I'm sorry you had to meet Mimzy's newest whore like this,” I said to Charlotte.

“Correction: Mimzy's Favorite Whore,” he said haughtily, “Since I arrived, I’ve been taking care of the select group of gentlemen who haven’t been served until now. And they are very generous,” he added, brushing his thumb and index finger together.

“Angel!” we heard someone yell, “I finally found you, you punk!”

We turned around and saw Vaggie, Mimzy’s right hand woman and coordinator, heading straight for us. She was a petite, short girl, with dark skin and a strong Latin accent. One of her eyes was always covered by her long, flowing hair.

“I told you that for tonight’s show you’re going to use the gray feathers! Where are they?!” she yelled, beside herself with anger.

“Uhhh... I think Fat Nuggets could have pooped on the gray feathers,” he said with disinterest, “So I threw them in the trash.”

“WHAT?! YOU LET YOUR PET PIG GET INTO THE CLOTHING TRUNK?!” she screeched angrily.

“He looked adorable in his sleep!” he said in exasperatedly, taking out a cigarette holder from the inside pocket of his jacket and lighting a cigarette from the end, "but yes, after waking up, he pooped on the feathers," he admitted casually, blowing a few clouds of smoke into the air.

Vaggie was grinding her teeth.

“Try to relax, Vaggie,” Charlotte said to her, trying to calm her down, “Your head will start to hurt if you keep this up.”

Vaggie turned around and her expression immediately changed to one of kindness when she saw her.

“Charlotte?” she smiled, “I didn’t even recognize you! You look great!”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said with a shy smile.

I held back a laugh. That odd fixation that Vaggie had concerning Charlotte was amusing. Since he had brought her in from time to time to see the administrative paperwork, they had become very close friends, but for Vaggie, seeing Charlotte was comparable to a blind man seeing the moon for the first time. I did not remove my hand from Charlotte's shoulder.

“Mr. Alastor, good afternoon.” She greeted me dryly.

“Good evening, Vaggie,” I said, merrily.

“What brings you here?” she said, “You both look rather elegant to have come to talk about business.”

“We came to see the piano,” Charlotte said with enthusiasm, “Miss Mimzy said that we could have it if we found it in good condition.”

“Of course, she mentioned that to me,” she said with a nod, “She’s backstage, please come with me.”

I kept my hand on Charlotte’s shoulder as we entered the premises.

Mimzy's club was divided into two parts: a bar section with tables surrounding a stage where musicians and dancers performed, and an open area where anyone who wanted to dance could do so. Everything was beautifully adorned with palm plants, and a magnificent crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

I looked at Charlotte's face. The adorable sparkle in her gaze every time she saw this environment was yet another reward for my role as an investor.

Suddenly, the band on stage started playing Benny Goodman's “Sing, sing, sing.” Immediately, the atmosphere of the club became more lively and those who were chatting at the tables stood up to participate in the revelry.

We stopped to watch the people dance.

“What a great song!” I exclaimed excitedly.

“It's one of my favorites!” Charlotte agreed, clapping her hands.

I addressed Charlotte with a bow and a wink.

“Do you dance, darling?” I said, extending my hand out to her.

She was surprised by the offer, but she immediately smiled at me and took my hand, gladly.

We glided onto the dance floor with enthusiasm. Our feet began to move to the sound of the swing. Charlotte, with her natural grace, danced by moving her hips with energy. I spun her around, supporting her hands as I did it a second time. A circle began to form around us and our spirited choreography. Soon, we had captivated the attention of all those in attendance. We kicked our feet happily to the rhythm. I inclined myself to her and took her hand to spin her around several times. She was shining like a star. We took steps back and forth, clapping rhythmically as we glanced at each other.

I was really surprised. We were playing a game where we took turns guiding each other. The swing had taken us over. We passed each other side by side as we moved to change places. I turned around and took her hand to continue our exchange of joyous steps. I pulled her close to me, giving her a boost as she managed to make a fantastic turn over my back, landing on my other side. I was elated with this game of control, of who was leading whom. She returned to the dance floor, taking my hand as her skirt made wonderful flares with each turn of her hip. Her cheeks were pinker than usual and her smile was one of real joy. I grabbed her firmly by the waist and lifted her up, spinning her around. Finally, I placed her on the ground, gave her one last turn, and dropped her onto my arm in a spectacular dip, both of us facing each other and her leg pointed out.

The song ended.

The whole room cheered us on in applause. Charlotte was smiling broadly, breathing heavily. She gave a joyous laugh that rang out like a bell. I’d never remembered myself becoming so aflutter after dancing, and I was sure I had never before seen her so euphoric and confident. The proximity of our faces did not seem to bother her, until she seemed to snap out of the moment’s trance. She smiled nervously at me and I chuckled. I helped her straighten up and invited her to bow to the public.

We left the dance floor, laughing.

“What a magnificent duo!” I said with a wide and sincere smile.

“Phew!” she fanned herself with her hands, “I don't remember the last time I danced like this. I'm out of practice.”

“I didn't know you had so much rhythm on your feet, sweetheart,” I grinned.

“Oh, I had very rigorous dance classes and I really enjoyed them!” she said enthusiastically, “but I’ve never been able to dance in a club.”

“Had I known you were so good, we would have come more often. Undoubtedly, we must do it again sometime,” I said, as a matter of factly.

She nodded in happiness.

“Hey, what a great show,” Angel said, approaching and smiling, “Who would have known that behind that pretty face is a whole queen of the track?” he pinched Charlotte's cheek and she smiled ruefully.

“That was great!” Vaggie said in delight, “No one could take their eyes off you! You should ask Miss Mimzy to be a part of the show!”

At that moment, someone very short and in a hurry came rushing in our direction, almost knocking Vaggie down to the floor.

“Alastor dear! Long time no see!” she squealed with excitement, “I had to see what was causing so much applause!”

It was Mimzy, the owner of the club. A voluptuous blonde woman who’s height left her down by my waist. She looked genuinely elated as she moved her hands, her smile widening on her chubby face.

“Salutations, Mimzy,” I said with a cordial bow, “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“It’s been quite a while since I last saw you dance like that!” Mimzy said excitedly as she hopped up and down, “You must dance with me next!” she demanded, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and yanking me hard, pulling me down as we almost collided nose to nose.

I put my hands over hers to remove them from my jacket and straightened my clothes.

“A lovely invitation, my dear Mimzy,” I said with my eyes closed haughtily, “but I am very afraid we are here on business. We have to check the piano before we consider keeping it.”

“Oh come on, it’ll only be one dance. It won't take up much time,” she insisted.

“Duty over pleasure, my dear. Setting selfish desires over work can lead to unpleasant consequences,” I said politely, “Now! Where's that piano?”

Mimzy seemed genuinely disappointed, but sighed with resignation.

“Fine, I'll show you the piano,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Vaggie, I'll take over from here,” she ordered.

"Oh, I think you still haven't noticed my dear Charlotte, Mimzy," I said, passing a hand past the shoulders of my servant.

She looked at Charlotte and said nothing for a few moments. I felt Charlotte tense up.

“Oh yes, how clumsy of me,” she said with a half smile, “Welcome, Charlotte. Seeing you so done up is really strange. ”

“Good afternoon, Miss Mimzy,” she replied, visibly uncomfortable.

We followed Mimzy backstage. The sound of the hustle and bustle in the main hall faded as we went along. We arrived at an instrument and scenery cellar, and there was the piano. It stood between furniture covered in fabrics and had accumulated a thin layer of dust.

Charlotte ran to examine the piano. I stood there watching her inspect it, she looked just like a girl getting excited about a new toy. She looked at the piano from top to bottom, played the keys, and looked inside the instrument, whispering to herself.

“Oh, these here are splinters from having it moved around so many times. Oh, this key needs to be tuned! The lid is a little worn, but with a bit of shoe polish it can be covered... And what are these white spots from?”

“I've never heard of a maid who was so excited about a piano,” Mimzy said, tilting her head, “Most of the poor only care about their daily bread.”

“What can I say?” I said cheerfully, “Charlotte is a special case. Additionally, she has a fun obsession with trying to fix things that have no hope, but that seems to make her happy.”

Charlotte seemed to finish her inspection and turned to me, swaying on her feet.

“May l?” she implored with a wide smile.

“Go ahead,” I nodded solemnly.

She smiled at me, used her hand to dust off the piano seat, and sat up straight. She removed her gloves and laid them neatly beside her. Taking a deep breath, she put her fingers in position on the keys.

It started with a slow melody; lonely keys, almost like a slow funeral march, but after a moment of silence and a smile from Charlotte, there was an explosion of melody. I felt my jaw drop slightly without erasing my smile. A complex and powerful melody filled the place. Charlotte did not seem the same. Gone was the shy girl who became nervous with a snap from her fingers. I could see a confident and powerful young woman playing with the music as she pleased. She maintained enviable control of the keys. She watched and played them with skill and grace. There came a point when she closed her eyes and wasn't even looking at the keyboard anymore. She seemed out of this world and connected to something higher than herself.

She had her back to me so she didn't notice it, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. I couldn’t remember ever having looked at her for so long without her moving restlessly upon feeling my presence.

And now, more than ever, I could see how her body had changed since I had met her. It had blossomed. The delicate curve of her shoulders and hips had been accentuated over the years. The line of her profile was sharper and her countenance conveyed tranquility. Her demeanor from her previous life as a rich girl shined before my eyes. Energetic, passionate, unattainable. All of it together in an attractive harmony. The skin of her pale neck was exposed, as she had styled her hair to one side. I had the sudden urge to want to reach out to her and rest my chin on her bare shoulder.

I took a deep breath to dismiss that last thought.

The music attracted some other unsolicited guests. Both Vaggie and Angel had been seized with curiosity. (I suspected that they had been following us closely.) They joined us in listening to Charlotte's performance, obviously amazed by the music.

It was then that I noticed Mimzy beside me, watching the piano performance with a neutral expression. I chuckled to myself. I was sure that she had looked down on Charlotte's abilities because of her servant status. Whenever we came to the premises she was notoriously contemptuous of Charlotte's presence.

On one occasion when Charlotte was with Vaggie looking at the new dresses for the dancers, Mimzy had taken advantage of the moment by saying something to me that, I suspected, she had wanted to tell me long ago.

“Why are you always bringing her, Al?” she said, annoyed at me, in her office.

“Oh? Am I not allowed to?” I had replied, raising an eyebrow.

“It doesn't seem like you’re her boss.”

“What I do or don't do with my servant is something that nobody else has to worry about, Mimzy,” I answered politely, but bluntly.

She couldn't argue with that. However, her dealings with Charlotte did not improve over time. She tried to demean her for being a servant by making small comments, thinking that I would never find out. But when I saw Charlotte more crestfallen than usual when leaving the club, I could sense that something really hurtful had been said. Although, I did not always know for sure what it was she said to her while I was not present to put her in that state.

Despite all that, I would bring Charlotte to Mimzy's club so often as a reward for her efforts. I didn't give anything to anyone who didn't deserve it.

When Charlotte finished the tune with a complex finger play, she raised her hands with a sigh of satisfaction. It was then that she jumped and turned quickly, hearing the applause behind her. She obviously had forgotten that she was not alone. She blushed brightly and stood up to make a small bow to her impromptu audience.

“Splendid, my dear!” I exclaimed, opening my arms and approaching her, “You have the entire audience at your feet.”

She pushed one of her locks behind her ear and smiled sheepishly. Her shyness again manifested itself before flattery. How adorable.

“It wasn't a big deal,” she said humbly.

“Wow!” Vaggie exclaimed, approaching with a smile, “What's that melody called?”

“That was ‘Winter Wind,’ by Chopin.” Charlotte responded, taking her gloves and donning them again.

“Bless you,” said Angel, with a playful laugh.

“It’s a piece I learned when I was very young.”

“Hey, lady, you dance and you play piano like a professional. What are you? A species of super servant or something like that?” said Angel, raising his hand.

“It would be spectacular if you could sing, too,” agreed Vaggie.

“Well… I do enjoy singing...” Charlotte responded, embarrassed.

“Oh!” Angel said with an exaggerated grimace of pain “You better not go on stage or I’ll have trouble keeping my crown as queen of the place! But I'm sure you don't compete with me when it comes to sucking dicks,” he concluded with a malicious smile.

Charlotte was shocked and flushed red. Vaggie nudged Angel in the side.

“Don't listen to this disgraced diva,” Vaggie said to Charlotte, “but, I do agree that you must have had a very good education to have so many good talents.”

“Um…” Charlotte mused uncomfortably.

I laughed scornfully.

“Oh, who would have thought that I would have someone as an assistant in my house with whom I could share a love of good music with, right?" I said fluently.

I shot a confident glance at Charlotte and she smiled at me.

“So how about the piano, dear?”

“Well, the piano is in very good condition despite the use,” she said, looking at it, “It just needs a few minor repairs, but it does sound good.”

“So is it okay to keep it?” I said, drumming my fingers on some keys.

“With Miss Mimzy's permission, of course,” she assured me.

Mimzy crooked a mischievous smile.

“I suppose you’ll owe me something in return, Alastor.” Mimzy put her hands on her hips.

“Certainly, one favor is paid for with another.” I nodded calmly.

“Have you thought about writing your own songs?” Vaggie said, approaching Charlotte.

“Well …” she muttered with uncertainty.

“Of course she has her own songs!” I exclaimed, interrupting her.

“For real?” Vaggie exclaimed excitedly.

“Oh! Now you also compose!” Angel complained, sliding down the wall dramatically.

“Just a moment!” Charlotte complained with a red face, “It is true that I’ve composed a melody that I years ago, but the lyrics are not yet polished, and it is erratic in some parts. Rather, it just seems like two badly meshed songs. Also, the rhythm is not adequate…”

“Okay, calm down, we don't want to pressure you,” Vaggie said with compassion, “but when you're ready, would you share it with us?”

Charlotte looked at me as if asking for my approval and I smiled at her to give her confidence. She turned her gaze to Vaggie and nodded with a shy smile.

“Well, the transaction of the piano is already decided, so let's go back to the main hall,” Mimzy said with a tight smile, “Alastor, I need to talk to you about transporting the piano.”

“Of course,” I said, walking with the group, “ladies, after you,” I allowed the women and Angel to come forward.

“Oh, I will miss that piano so much,” Angel said, putting his hand on his forehead in a gesture of exaggerated tragedy, “It was the ideal height to support myself when my clients made me the puppy.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes in disgust and Mimzy huffed. My eye twitched and I had to use all my self-control in order to not show an expression of total disgust. I looked at Charlotte, who was pursing her lips and frowning in horror. She looked at her hands in shock, understanding now that she had traces of Angel's semen and perhaps that of however many who had participated with him in having sex on the piano.

“I suggest you wash your hands, darling.” I whispered in her ear, “I'll get you all the disinfectant you need to clean that piano until you're sure there's no Angel left on it.”

Charlotte looked at me and nodded fervently.

We had reached the living room again, but someone was waiting for us, leaning against the wall. It was a woman with too much makeup on her face and a crude red dress. I recognized her immediately. It was Katie Killjoy, a reporter for the New Orleans Courier. It had a little gossip section, which was published once weekly. She was a nosy gossip who used to try to sell dubious stories at a high price to the radio at least once a month, but many times the stories she was trying to negotiate were so strange that they could hardly be bought. Like the one about the “Arizona Zombie Animal Night Zoo,” or “The Incredible Trumpeter Crocodile.” Everyone knew that crocodiles don’t have lips.

If Katie was there, that meant she was on the trail of one of her ridiculous reports. Frankly, I was surprised that she hadn't been fired already.

“Alastor!” she said openly with a cigarette between her fingers, “Why, the Radio Demon himself... and an entourage of villagers,” she said contemptuously as she looked at the others.

“Katie.” I said by way of greeting.

“I came all the way here because I thought I heard a decent piano tune in the back, but surely I must have imagined it. Nothing good can come out of here.” She smiled, showing all her teeth, “Why, isn't it strange to see you in a pathetic dump like this?”

Vaggie picked up an empty alcohol bottle from the floor and hit it to break the bottom. She stood in front of the group with the broken part facing Katie.

“I warned you not to come snooping around here again, Katie.” Mimzy took a step forward, trying to look intimidating, although it didn't seem to have an effect due to their great difference in heights.

“Oh, do you still have that attitude?” she replied, snorting through her nose, “Honey, with that level of stress, I'm not surprised that you have curves where you shouldn't have them." She patted her belly.

Mimzy put a hand on Vaggie's shoulder to calm her. Vaggie had her teeth clenched with rage and seemed about ready to attack the intruder.

Katie approached us with contempt and looked at each of those present with a condescending smile. She turned her attention to me.

“You continue with your radio program, right?” she said, “Sharing your ridiculous censored news and featuring crappy music?”

I threw my head back to laugh heartily.

“Oh no, no, no, dear!” I said maliciously, “I think you confuse my work with your miserable attempt to report with cheap lies.”

Katie gave me a smug smile.

“Your stupid listeners need more than the poor information they receive from the police filter,” she said confidently, “You are just a dog of the state power. You don't give out half the information about things that actually happened. Especially since the killer is on the loose in the city.”

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“There are truths that the public is not yet ready to receive, Katie. Part of my job is to dilute it a little bit,” I said calmly.

“Ha! ‘Censor,’ you mean.” She threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with her high heels.

“Well, I don't have that policy. I go to the heart of the matter. And if you don't have the ability to tap into some inside information, you're missing out on a great financial opportunity, Al.”

I saw Charlotte frown and tense up next to me.

“I know you have a lot of information you can't say about The Vigilante, Alastor, and I'm going to find it out,” she threatened, putting a finger with a long nail to my chest.

I withdrew her nasty hand with a quick gesture, keeping my composure.

“Do you really want to keep track of the New Orleans serial killer?” I said, sarcastically.

“The Vigilante is material for public use, Alastor,” she said, crossing her arms, “And people demand to know more about him. The radio never mentions the community murals that support the murderer of the scourges of society. You never mention that the police are losing credibility, because they’re not able to catch the criminal and because those who support The Vigilante feel safe because he’s executing the criminals.”

I chuckled softly.

“So, if the community believes that The Vigilante is nothing more than a savior, why would you want to destroy the amusement of a person who wants to see justice well imparted with blood?” I said, my hand on my chin.

She smiled cheekily, putting her hands on her hips.

“It’s exclusive,” she said, “I don’t plan to destroy his fame. My goal is to rather increase the myth around you. The Vigilante would become the new saint of those unprotected by the unjust law of those who have money. But your way of telling his story is so bland that the image of the “hero of the poor” is losing great advertising potential.”

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance.

“With all the information from The Vigilante omitted by the police, you could write ten books,” Katie continued, “And I know you have a confidentiality order. But I could propose something interesting to you.”

She approached me and lowered her voice.

“How about you ‘privately’ share some of that privileged access with me?”

I felt everyone's gaze on me.

“You don't have to dig into details. I can take care of the plot holes. No one has to know, Al. We can sell it to my contact from an independent newspaper. We would divide the profits. What do you say?”

Before I could answer her, Charlotte stepped forward in front of me, defiant.

“He doesn't have to use stratagems to earn the respect of those who listen to his news,” she said, standing erect, “His voice has credibility because he speaks the truth. That shows the value you place on your work. ”

I couldn't help blinking in surprise.

“Oh, wow! Did you get married already, Al?” Katie said mockingly, looking at Charlotte closely, “And a looker no less! I didn't know you liked them so young.”

She pressed Charlotte's cheeks together and smiled grimly.

“I bet life in bed must be very interesting with such an energetic girl, right?”

Charlotte pulled away from Katie's grip.

“I-I'm Mister Alastor's maid!” Charlotte said, trying to overcome her blush.

“Ew! Even worse. I don’t touch servants,” she said, walking away with a disgusted look on her face, “I have standards and an image to take care of.”

She arranged her hair haughtily, “They can't see me talking to the scum.”

“It is you who are completely disgusting, ma'am!” Charlotte replied indignantly, “You have no right to come and treat us like this.”

“Alastor, tell your little whore to watch her manners in front of those who can pay for the bread they eat,” she said angrily, “Listen to me, brat, you better shut that crappy mouth or I can write an article about Alastor from a questionable past that can stain his reputation. People swallow everything I say! We'll see if he dares to go outside after that!” and she started to laugh.

I must admit, I thought it was a pretty silly situation, but when I started to see tears of anger in Charlotte's eyes, I decided it was best to step in.

I put a hand on Charlotte's shoulder, then took a step forward and faced Katie.

“Katie, I must emphasize that my professional code prevents me from sharing privileged information,” I said calmly, “Of course, I can let you access all the rugged details that only the police know about without a problem. You can sell them and keep my share, I have no problems,” I shrugged.

I was aware that everyone was staring at me in amazement. Katie's smile widened so much that it seemed unnatural.

I leaned forward and said, calmly, as a threat.

“But when I announce to the police that someone entered the radio station without permission, stole valuable information, mentioning in the morning news the name of the woman who published an article with classified material, you will be the main and only suspect, Katie. The police will go directly to the trail of whoever profited with inside information. It wouldn't be unheard of if they locked you up immediately with such overwhelming evidence. ”

Katie's smile fell instantly and her eyes widened in terror.

“Oh! It would be a heavy blow to your readers!” I said, smiling maliciously, “But calm down. I'm sure your career won't go to hell because of that. You can keep writing your stupid reports behind bars. I just wonder who would want to read them.”

With that, I started to laugh. Charlotte looked at Katie with a triumphant smile.

“I should have assumed you would act like this,” Katie said, “You just missed the best alliance opportunity you can get, Alastor. We will see how you stay afloat financially with the crisis. I will be the one to laugh at the end when your luck runs out and I see you in the streets begging for some breadcrumbs,” and an evil smile spread across her face.

I was not affected in the least by his sad threat, but Charlotte growled and took a firm step forward.

“Well...! It seems to me that the one who begs here is you, you..! You..! BITCH!" she said out loud and trembling.

Katie clenched her teeth angrily and no one saw the fierce slap in the face that she gave Charlotte coming. We were stunned, and Charlotte touched her beaten cheek as she lowered her head.

“Be careful with what you say,” Katie said bitingly.

Before I could intervene, I watched, stunned, as Charlotte slapped Katie hard. Her fists were clenched and she was breathing heavily. I had never seen her like this. I was furious. Katie immediately lunged at her and pulled her hair. Charlotte punched her in the cheek to try to knock her out, then lunged for her. Between screams and blows, the fight intensified between the two women and caught the attention of many onlookers, who surrounded them while cheering for their favorite.

It was hilarious to see the sweet Charlotte turn into a beast in the ring, fighting fist to fist with Katie on the ground! I had never seen such a violent facet in her stable way of being. I knew that so much pent-up anger would explode at some point, and how glad I was to witness that moment! I was truly enjoying the matchup and seeing Charlotte's true passion flame consume her in this glorious wild state. It gave me a strange kind of pleasure to see her like this. But if they kept up with that pace, Charlotte would be truly hurt and she would be very sorry that her new dress was ruined.

“Ladies! Ladies, please!” I said out loud, managing to separate them both with difficulty, while they tugged at each other’s hair.

With a quick movement, Angel laboriously grabbed Katie's back until he had a hold of her arms. She kept squirming, demanding to be released.

“I will destroy you, wretch!” Katie yelled at her, all disheveled and her nose bleeding, “I'll use whatever I have on hand to see you and Alastor fall, you fucking servant!”

“Yeah?! I want to see you try, bitch!” Charlotte yelled at her, gasping as Vaggie tried to pull her to her feet.

Angel had to hold Katie tighter so she didn't try to jump on Charlotte again.

“Get out of here, Katie!” Mimzy said firmly, entering the scene, “You are not welcome in this establishment!”

Girls from the cast came down from the stage to help get her out of the room between struggles and curses. Even some clients helped in the process.

“All good?” I heard Vaggie say to Charlotte.

“Yes, thanks, Vaggie,” she replied, smiling weakly.

I turned to look at Charlotte. Her hair had been scattered in unruly locks, one of her sleeves had almost completely come loose from their seams, and a sharp nail scratch was bleeding from the exposed shoulder. Her cheeks were red from the slaps and she was sweating from the recent activity.

Charlotte looked at me in surprise and lowered her head, clasping her hands together nervously. I raised a funny eyebrow. Where had that brutal fighter been all this time?

“I am sorry for this degrading spectacle, Mister Alastor,” she said regretfully, still looking at her feet. She was trying very hard to hold back her tears, “I don't know what happened to me... Really, I…”

I took my red scarf off my chest and offered it to her. She took it and looked at me expectantly.

“I'm not mad, if that's what you expected of me,” I said confidently, still smiling at him, “Nor do I intend to fire you.”

“But…” she replied weakly.

I chuckled.

“Do you still think you are not living up to your name, my brave little warrior?” I said, stroking her head, “Now go get ready in the bathroom. We still have to go to dinner.”

She pursed her lips and began to cry. She nodded fervently as she hiccupped.

“Vaggie, could you help her with her injuries in the bathroom?” I said without losing my composure, “I would appreciate it if you gave her a needle and thread to repair the broken sleeve too.”

“Of course,” she answered with uncertainty, but immediately took Charlotte's shoulders to guide her to the bathroom, “Come with me, honey.”

I stared at them until they were lost around the corner.

“Very well, continue on your way, if you are not going to pay there is nothing more to see here,” Angel said, making an effort to disperse the group of onlookers who were still nearby.

I turned to see Mimzy and bowed.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience Charlotte may have caused,” I said, “I apologize on her behalf.”

“Oh, nothing's wrong, Al,” she said, waving her hand, “The fighting here is daily bread, but you could train that girl a little better. What shameful behavior!” she said with a big smile.

“I certainly have to talk to her.” I agreed.

“And by the way, Aaaal,” she said, clinging to my side lewdly, “Have you not thought about the proposal I made to you?”

“I do not rule out options that may be convenient for me, Mimzy.” I looked assuringly at her, “But I haven't decided anything.”

She started tracing circles on my stomach with her finger.

“But you've made me wait soooo long for an answer, Al,” she said with a pout. “You know that if you marry me, your profits would be fixed as the co-owner of my store and not only as a 15% investor. You need to be cautious and build smart alliances in such difficult times.” She blinked at me flirtatiously, “Also, if you marry me I could make you sooooo happy…” she said, sliding her finger to the fly of my pants.

With an abrupt movement, I stepped to the side and she fell to the ground.

“Dignity, Mimzy.” I said, looking at her on the floor

She stood up quickly and looked at me offended. Then, she smirked as she crossed her arms.

“Patience is a well-rewarded virtue,” I sentenced solemnly.

“I will continue to be patient, honey,” she said, “But remember this, Alastor: you cannot run away from me forever.”

I snorted derisively. I turned around, completely ignoring her, and sat down at the bar counter to wait for Charlotte. I needed a good whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19
> 
> My fanfic "The Taxidermist" in Spanish: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578035/chapters/51446338
> 
> I finished it earlier, so I posted it earlier.
> 
> I love being able to put in more humanized characters. And have more dialogue XD
> 
> For real. I REALLY wanted to find another tune other than "Sing, sing sing", but damn it! It was perfect for the scene. I've read at least three other fanfics that mention it, but there's no denying that the song says "1930" in every chord, so I stuck with that one. Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S1I_ien6A
> 
> This is the melody Charlotte plays on the piano https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZjdAWgjLx8
> 
> I hope you’re enjoying this fanfic-that-I-didn't-expect-to-blow-up-so-much :)
> 
> A hug to all who read! Thank you!


	6. A Matter of Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and Vaggie talk about the importance of having advantages.

Vaggie turned off the water of the sink and approached me with a damp cloth. Carefully, she began to wash the remnants of blood from my shoulder. I was fully concentrated darning back together the torn sleeve, fighting to make it look as natural as possible compared to Rosie's stitches, and paying attention so there were no wrinkles left on the satin. When I finally finished, it was almost perfect. I sighed, relieved that my new dress hadn’t been damaged any more by that horrible woman.

“Is everything alright?” Vaggie said with a worried expression.

“Yes, apart from the sleeve, my dress is fine,” I said smiling, and proudly showed it to her.

She brought the damp cloth closer to my face and gave me tiny taps on my cheek where the slap had landed.

“I meant your reaction,” she insisted, “I have never seen you so out of control, nor have I seen someone fighting like you were without justifiable reason... except for when the person in question was drunk.”

“Of course there was a reason!” I said in surprise, “That woman was trying to demean Mr. Alastor with her lies! She really is a horrible person! And after she hit me, I just couldn't bear not to attack her. ”

Vaggie looked at me curiously and smiled understandingly.

“What?” I said nervously.

“You like him, don't you?” she said wisely.

I felt a hole in my stomach and a cold sweat run down my back.

“NO! Why do you say that?” I lied with a nervous smile, “Of course not.”

“Really?” she said suspiciously.

“He is my boss and I´m his employee. It’s impossible for me to feel anything more for him than respect and obedience.”

“Well, it seemed to me that Katie's bleeding nose was not given to her by someone who merely respects her boss,” she said.

“You’re crazy, Vaggie,” I said defensively, “No matter how charming, intelligent, handsome, and kind he is, I could never like him... as magnificent a man he is...” I assured her, crossing my arms.

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and hands on her hips. I pursed my lips nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“Wow, you really love him,” she said rolling her eyes.

I tried to come up with thousands of excuses in my head, but I was sure Vaggie would keep trying to dig until I confessed. I put my hands to my face and moaned helplessly.

“Am I that obvious?” I said, frustrated, through my hands.

“Considering how you look at him, talk to him, blush, and also hit someone who offends him... well, yeah,” she said with a slight smile.

“Oh no...” I said, shrugging in shame.

I took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, sighing heavily.

“Do you think someone else has noticed it already?” I looked at Vaggie in anguish, “What if he already noticed?”

“Calm down, I doubt anyone else has noticed. Surely everyone will see the fight as an act of job loyalty or something like that.”

I put on the dress, thinking. I was terrified that someone else had noticed, but above all else, I was more afraid that _he_ had realized my feelings. Another of the main reasons why I wouldn't dare tell Mister Alastor how I felt about him, was that, in addition to being my boss, he was the owner of the house where I also lived. If he considered it uncomfortable to have a housemaid in love with him, surely he would no longer require my services.

In short, if I made a bad move with him, I would earn a love rejection, lose my job, and the place where I lived. It was not a positive scenario for me to risk mentioning something like that to him.

I turned to the mirror and looked at my messy hair. Helplessness was drawing me to tears again. It had taken me so much time to do my hair without lotion and a curling iron!

“My hair is a mess, and look at these marks on my cheek,” I said, huffing in defeat, “I can't go to dinner like this with Mister Alastor.”

Vaggie took a small pink bag that she had brought along with the sewing set and put it in the sink next to her.

“I can help you with your hair and hide the swelling a bit,” Vaggie offered, “But we have to start now.”

“Really?” I said hopefully.

“Turn around and let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Vaggie,” I said sincerely.

The bag turned out to be Angel Dust's cosmetic bag. It had all kinds of lipsticks, powders and shades, in addition to a comb, hair accessories, and fixative.

Vaggie began to work on my hair in silence.

“You do this very often, right?” I said, trying to be casual.

“Although I see the administrative side of this establishment, the girls need all the help they can get with their looks before the show,” I heard her say while combing my hair, “So I have learned to be versatile in this business.”

She did her best to put every hair clip on me. I had previously done my hair with scraps of fabric to firm the strands of hair in the absence of styling tools. What Mister Alastor paid me, I rationed for basic necessities and never for makeup. But, how I wished I had all the powders and lipsticks I used to own in the Magne mansion!

Vaggie's voice brought me out of my sad thoughts.

“Hey, Charlotte, where did you get all these scars?” she was quiet.

“Oh, you saw them,” I said nervously.

“They cover a large part of your back, girl,” she huffed, “It was difficult NOT to see them.”

I took a deep breath. After all the help she was giving me, I figured I could tell her about that part of my life.

“The day I met Mister Alastor, he saved me from three men who beat me and wanted to abuse me. I was an orphan, I had no home, and Mister Alastor took me in, healed my wounds, gave me a place to live, and a job. He is the kindest person I have ever met.”

There were a few moments of silence as she finished putting the finishing touches in my hair. She took some powders and applied them to my face.

“You think it's crazy, right?” I confessed, discouraged.

“That we borrowed Angel's makeup?” she laughed, “He has two more bags with things like this. He won’t notice that this one is missing.”

“No, I mean the other thing I mentioned...” I said quietly, embarrassed.

“That you like ‘Mr. Smiles’?” she said, wrinkling her nose and still smiling, “Actually, I kind of saw it coming. I always wondered how you put up with him on a daily basis, frankly. He is quite strange... and a little weird.”

“He’s a bit eccentric, that's for sure, but it's part of his essence,” I said, embarrassed, “Mister Alastor seems like an unreachable person almost all the time, and you never know what he's really thinking, but he is so nice to me. He considers me in his daily life even though I’m only his servant. He always surprises me when he does something completely spontaneous, like when he feels like cooking and makes dinner for both of us, or when he takes me for a walk around the city, or when we work in his workshop and makes me laugh with his jokes…”

I paused for a moment in my reverie and lowered my head. I was surprised by the sincerity and enthusiasm of my own words when talking about him. Vaggie remained thoughtful as she applied blush on my cheeks.

“The truth is, I can't help but like him so much,” I said quietly.

Under the makeup, I felt a powerful blush spread across my face. Vaggie smiled empathetically.

“Close your eyes.”

She applied eye shadow on my eyelids.

“From how you describe him, he seems to be a different person behind the scenes. I’ve only been able to see him at business meetings with Miss Mimzy, and he doesn't strike me as the type who seems to care about anything more than himself.”

“I’ve lived with him for two years,” I smiled sadly, “I know he has an image to show in front of other people, so…”

“Don't worry, what you told me doesn't change what I think. He will continue to be one of the club's eccentric investors for me.”

I chuckled, then sighed.

“I’ve never told anyone about how he makes me feel,” I said, “Saying it out loud sounds crazier than I thought.”

“Hey, don't worry, it doesn't really seem bad or crazy that you like him,” she said, applying very carefully black eyeliner onto my eyelids, “Well, we all like different types of people, and if you see all those good qualities in him, he can’t be a bad guy. Although he behaves elusively with everyone else, it’s clear that he seems to have a lot of confidence in you.”

“But it’s impossible for him to like me in the same way I like him, Vaggie,” I said, dejected, “He is very cordial to me, but I have never seen hints of any special intentions beyond friendliness.”

“And with anyone else, has he behaved like that?”

I frowned, trying to remember.

“No?” I tilted my head.

“Then you don't know when he's flirting and when he's not,” she laughed.

Vaggie painted my lips a pretty red. When she finished, she went back to my hair.

“Don't give me false hope, Vaggie,” I said, sighing, “Miss Mimzy never misses the chance to call me a ‘poor servant girl’ who has nothing to offer. She made it clear to me that Mister Alastor would be better off with someone his level.”

“You don't have to listen to her,” she stacked the hairdressing accessories in the sink, “I’m sure she has liked Mister Alastor for years, and I can attest that she proposed marriage to him long ago.”

I opened my mouth in amazement, straightening up suddenly and looking at her with wide eyes. I tried to say something. Refute. Shout. Cry. Curse my luck. But nothing came out of my mouth. My breathing quickened and I leaned back against the sink, almost limp.

“Is Mister Alastor getting married…?” I said, almost voiceless.

“No,” Vaggie said with a snort.

“B-but you said...!” I tried to refute.

“I just said that she proposed it to him.” She cut my babbling off with one hand on my hip and lifted the other to stop me, “And that was over a year ago, Charlotte.”

I frowned.

“So, you are telling me that…”

“They are not getting married,” she stated, “He never gave her an answer.”

I held my breath and sighed in relief. The possibility of him getting married left a painful feeling in my heart. I put a hand on my chest so I could regulate my breathing.

“I suppose he will have his reasons for not having answered anything, and for having Miss Mimzy hopeful in the face of such a tempting alliance,” Vaggie said, looking for something in the cosmetic bag, “She can be very patient when she wants to be.”

“You speak of a possible marriage as if it were nothing more than a strategy to avoid starvation,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn't that the case?” Vaggie said, amused.

It was true. Convenience marriages were frequent to escape poverty, but something didn't make sense to me.

“It doesn't look like Miss Mimzy is going to starve to death if she's not married,” I snorted, “She's the one who has a successful business.”

“And the one who would win in an alliance would be Mister Alastor, right?” Vaggie said, raising her eyebrows.

“Mr. Alastor likes his current life,” I said firmly, “He has his routines and his schedules. He likes his job and has room for his hobbies. He is fine that way.” I began to feel anger manifesting in my words.

“Does it really seem to you that he hasn't married because of that?” Vaggie replied.

“He is not in love, either,” I said with a frown.

“How do you know?”

“Because if he were in love, he would have already married!” I said a little too loud.

I was breathing hard and clenching my teeth. Vaggie looked at me in surprise.

“Vaggie I-I’m sorry,” I covered my mouth with my hands in horror, “I didn't mean to yell at you…”

“It’s ok. It’s normal that the subject affects you that way,” she said, smiling with understanding.

I kept thinking in silence. Undoubtedly he would have everything to win if he was to marry someone who cared about him. But, Mister Alastor's motives were so unclear that it was impossible to reach a satisfactory conclusion.

It was strange to think about it, but thinking that he would be married for convenience and not for love would hurt less in my heart.

“She doesn't like rivals, that's why she doesn't like you,” Vaggie said simply.

“Do you think I rival her?” I smiled incredulously, “She is a very pretty woman and a club owner. Her business is self-supporting and she can afford things that most cannot afford right now. And… I´m just a simple housemaid. There is no point of comparison, Vaggie.”

Somehow I was relieved to be able to discuss these things with someone. All the friends I had in my previous life had migrated to another country with what little they had left. I was sure everyone already considered me dead. There was no one I could talk to about what tormented me. Mr. Alastor was the closest person to me and it was precisely he who shouldn't know how I felt.

“If you want advice from me, I would tell you to let things flow. You must not lose hope yet.”

"I already told you, she has an advantage over me," I repeated, "If Mr. Alastor is not in love with her, he will probably fall for her soon."

"It doesn't sound like something the calculating guy I know would do."

"Come on, Vaggie, be realistic. If the country's crisis continues at this rate, it will only be a matter of time before he agrees to make her his wife."

"Yes, she is a safe financial candidate and she is beautiful," she agreed, "she has all the advantage over you. But do you know what else she has? ”

“What?”

“A huge frustration, because he doesn't want to marry her.”

I really didn't know how to answer that. Mr. Alastor certainly liked having privileges. It was one of the things I noticed about him. He prided himself on having information that no one had. He liked what was out of his reach. That is why he took so much effort in hunting his prey: he followed and stalked them patiently, and he always got the best specimen to prepare it with taxidermy. Then he decided whether to keep it or to sell it to a collector, or to some private enclosure.

In conclusion, the possibility that he would marry a woman whose capital was stable despite the crisis was an expected action. But then, why hadn't he? And if she liked him, what was stopping him from making her his wife?

“Close your eyes and hold your breath, honey.” Vaggie said.

Immediately, the curling iron invaded my entire head. Vaggie arranged some curls and added another spray.

"Well, I think I did a good job," she said proudly, folding her arms, "Give me your verdict."

I turned to the mirror and saw a woman. A beautiful woman.

I touched my face and the woman did the same. It was me. It really was me. The makeup had accentuated my features and the roundness of my face was the only thing that made me look a little childish. And, above all, the makeup perfectly covered any bruise that might form from the blows. I saw a lot of my late mother in my reflection.

“I cannot believe it! Thanks, Vaggie!” I yelled excitedly and gave her a hug.

She returned the hug tenderly, and then she parted to look at me.

“Charlotte, you don't have to belittle yourself that much,” she said sternly, taking my shoulders, “You are very pretty, you are kind, intelligent, and very talented. Whoever is with you will be very happy, I assure you. And if he is as smart as he claims to be, he will appreciate you as such.”

I smiled at her.

“I guess I can try it,” I said with a shrug.

“That’s it. Now go get ‘mister smiles,’” she said, turning me and pushing me to the exit.

Vaggie took the bag and we left the bathroom.

We walked again into the ballroom. A light tune of the Charleston was heard in the air. The confidence in my makeup was decreasing when I noticed that I was gaining glances from some curious people, and my anxiety increased. I wanted to leave as soon as possible, and quickened my pace until I reached the saloon. I looked around for Mister Alastor and found him at the bar talking to Husk, the grumpy bartender at the club; a man in his fifties, with powerful eyebrows, bushy sideburns, and notable cat-like features. The bartender tossed some cards into the air in anger.

“Damn you, Alastor!” he cried out furiously, “How can you win three poker hands in a row with a royal flush?! Do you have any hidden cards or a pact with the devil?!”

“Are you accusing me of cheating over your own incompetence and bad luck, my dear Husk?” Mister Alastor replied haughtily, examining his nails, “but if it makes you feel better, I'll only take half the money you bet.” He took some dollars from the table and put them in his jacket.

Husk looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I don't need the other half,” Mister Alastor continued, “It’s enough for me to have seen your hilarious frustration, and to have crushed you in a fair way,” and he started to laugh.

“Are you shitting me?!” Husk exclaimed angrily, leaning on the bar, “Do you think I'm some kind of fucking clown?!”

“Mmmh... Maybe.” Mister Alastor concluded with a mocking smile.

Husk gritted his teeth and refrained from launching himself at him. He took a bottle of alcohol and took a long drink. Mister Alastor laughed heartily.

“It's not a good move to attack an investor in the place you work,” Mister Alastor said maliciously.

“Shut up.” Husk replied and continued drinking.

Mister Alastor really seemed in good spirits. I looked at Vaggie and she held both thumbs up for confidence. I took a deep breath and walked over to him.

“Mister Alastor,” I said, “I'm here.”

“Oh, it's good that you're back, dear…” he said, turning and leaving the sentence half-finished when he saw me. His face was completely paralyzed.

My heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at me. I looked down, embarrassed, hoping the floor would swallow me up. All the confidence I had built disappeared, and if it wasn't for my shaky legs, I would have run away. I must have looked really weird with makeup and I regretted getting out of bed that day.

He reacted after a few seconds. He cleared his throat quickly, stood up and took my hand.

“Le rouge est définitivement votre couleur, ma chère,” he said abruptly, and kissed my knuckles for the second time that afternoon.

I blushed at the compliment regarding the red color of my lips, but I couldn't help but giggle. I knew he spoke some French, but he used to say nothing more than single words from time to time. It was the first time he spoke directly to me in my second language.

“Merci beaucoup, mon seigneur Alastor.” I replied with a solemn bow of my head.

Mr. Alastor gave a slight laugh and from my peripheral vision I saw Vaggie rolling her eyes.

“I see you already feel better,” he said, straightening up and releasing my hand, “And I'm glad your dress has been fixed.”

I nodded apprehensively, not being able to look him in the eye.

“Again I apologize for what happened a while ago …” I said regretfully. “If that horrible woman were to do something against you sir, I know it would be my fault and I would never forgive myself.”

“Don't worry about Katie, darling,” he said, waving his hand, “I have my ways to stay on my feet in front of those who’ve wanted to see me fall.”

I decided to keep believing his words, but I couldn't stop worrying. I could not understand how he could ever have enemies...

“But I must admit that I was surprised by that aggressive side that you had hidden, sweetheart,” he added, cocking his head.

“Oh, please sir, don't remind me of that.” I covered my face with shame and he laughed heartily.

I took my hands away from my face and looked at him. I was very relieved to see him in such a good mood.

“I've never seen you with makeup before,” he said suddenly.

“Oh, this?” I said, touching my lips with my fingertips, “Vaggie helped me with my wounds and makeup,” I added, looking at her.

“I just added a little color,” she said, smiling with a shrug.

“Thank you for all your attention to my dear Charlotte, Vaggie,” Mister Alastor said, bowing his head.

“No problem,” Vaggie replied uncomfortably.

“Charlotte? Your housemaid?” Husk said incredulously, “Good grief to me! You look like someone else!”

Husk chuckled and slapped the bar table with the flat of his hand.

“I should have known! I couldn´t believe that the Alastor I know was talking to a beautiful lady!” he yelled with a laugh.

I didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended by what the bartender had said, but Mister Alastor narrowed his eyes at him, not disguising his annoyance, despite his smile.

“Well then, you were wrong, my dear Husk,” he said cordially, “Because it is exactly what I'm doing.”

Then he turned to me, saying cheerfully, “Dinner is on Husk today, darling!” he patted the pocket of his own jacket that was filled with money.

Husk stopped his laugh and looked at him, visibly upset. Then he turned to continue drinking from his bottle, muttering curses.

Mister Alastor laughed heartily, and although I was somewhat saddened that Husk had lost the money he wagered, I couldn't help but laugh too.

Husk was known to be a gambler. I’d heard about it several times when he insisted that Mister Alastor play poker with him. Mister Alastor always won. And just like that, Husk would lose again and again until he was left with nothing… so, I couldn't help but laugh: Whoever betted everything without measuring the consequences undoubtedly deserved what they received if luck wasn't on their side.

Vaggie returned to her job as administrator and went to the bar, completely furious.

“DID YOU GAMBLE AGAIN, HUSK?!” the girl yelled, “DURING WORK HOURS?!” she hit the bar with her hands.

“Don't bother me, kitten!” Husk said, growling.

“And did you pay for that liquor you're drinking?!” Vaggie said, ignoring the man's complaints.

“Wait! What are you doin´?!” Husk yelled, trying to save the bottle from Vaggie's frantic grip.

I giggled along with Mister Alastor, watching those two fight and struggle comically.

“It's good to see you laugh,” he said, giving me a soft look.

I smiled sheepishly, looking down.

“Excuse me, sir, would you allow me the next dance with the lady?” we heard someone behind us. I recognized him as the young man who had tried to flirt with me when I had arrived here. “I saw her dance before and I would love to dance with her.”

Instinctively, I snuggled up behind Mr. Alastor, and he straightened up definitively before the guy.

“No, sir,” Mr. Alastor said, scathingly and deeply.

“Oh, but it's just a dance,” the guy insisted lightly and looked at me, “Also, the lady can decide who she wants to dance with…”

“The lady is with me.” Mister Alastor cut him off with his hands clenched behind his back.

I couldn't see his face, but I was sure he hadn't lost his smile despite the tension of the environment. The guy looked at Mister Alastor threateningly, offended by the double refusal, but suddenly that changed. The man froze. I looked at him curiously to see the change he had, and I was surprised to see his face. His eyes moved frantically, and he made small cries of panic with his mouth ajar. He was turning red, like he was exerting great physical effort. Everything happened without him moving any muscle in his limbs. Suddenly, the man gasped loudly, as if he had been holding his breath. He looked at Mister Alastor with an expression of horror and ran to the exit. People looked curiously at the man who escaped in terror for no apparent reason. Most of the people continued their activities as soon as he was out of sight, surely considering him just another ridiculous guy who was drunk.

I was amazed at the strange behavior of the man. I glanced at Mister Alastor, looking for an explanation of what could have caused that man to run away in so much terror, but he turned to me, smiling and in good spirits. Nothing seemed to justify what had just happened.

“What the hell happened to that guy???” Husk said behind us. He and Vaggie had stopped their fight. Vaggie was holding an empty bottle in her hand.

“I have no idea!” Mister Alastor said fluidly, “You better keep your distance from men like this one, darling. An invitation to dance may be the next ‘Vigilante’ murder,” he added, leaning in toward me.

“You think that man was The Vigilante?” I said, puzzled.

“Oh, you can meet very weird people in a place like this, so I don't rule it out,” he said as he checked on his pocket, “Well, we've been here longer than expected and you have to be hungry after all that action earlier today.”

He offered me his arm, gallantly.

“Shall we?” he said with a knowing smile.

I took his offered arm, returning the smile.

“See you later, Vaggie, and thanks,” I said as we walked to the exit.

She waved a hand to say goodbye and smiled slightly at me.

On the way to the exit several of the previous witnesses to the fight looked at me and pointed at me in a whisper. There were looks of amusement and others of disapproval. I was feeling a little uneasy, but Mister Alastor seemed to ignore it, because he maintained a calm gaze and an upright posture without slowing down. Finally, we left Mimzy´s Palace. It was already dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to upload this chapter. I NEED the following to be narrated by Alastor.  
> I hope you like it even if it's short. The next one will be much longer. ;)
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	7. Dinner For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner and a photo change the course of things.

We kept pace, quickly and quietly leaving Mimzy's premises. The night was unusually pleasant to walk in, even though in a couple of weeks it would officially be winter. Wearing too much clothing seemed extremely uncomfortable and I was grateful that Rosie kept the outfit I had been wearing during the day. I was able to go out in my new suit without having to carry anything.

I had chosen a restaurant three blocks from Mimzy’s Palace, so there was no need to use the tram to get there. Despite not being really late on the reservation schedule, I was no longer happy to be at Mimzy's place. What's more, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The sheer number of men with haunting intentions and dubious nobility watching Charlotte at the club had made me feel strangely anxious. We had already attracted enough attention for the day among those lustful simple-living folk, and I was not willing to continue exposing her in that environment. I bit back a growl at the memory of the man's extremely smug attitude as he had tried to ask her to dance.

I cast a sideways glance at Charlotte. She was still firmly holding my arm and, to my surprise, she looked excited even though she was having trouble keeping up with me. She seemed absorbed in a thought that kept her entertained.

As I walked the second block, I decided to slow down and break the silence.

“Is something bothering you, sweetheart?” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really,” she said sincerely while smiling at me, “it's just that I was glad we got out of there so fast. The atmosphere was a little strange, don't you think?”

I blinked with curiosity. How curious. She had been thinking exactly the same thing as me.

“Are you talking about the well-justified attention you were getting, sweetie?” I said jokingly.

“Should I resign myself to you mentioning the fight I had from now on?” she said, twitching her expression in shame.

I laughed out loud. She was still thinking about the fight! She didn't even consider her mere presence as one of the reasons everyone was looking at her! Such traits of innocence were charming. She was completely absent from the power she had over those around her. And, in my opinion, it seemed the best option that I continued her ignorance.

“Of course, my dear,” I said, catching my breath, “Oh, that was quite a sight! I haven't had that much fun since the stock market crash of 1929.” I laughed again.

She pouted and looked down.

“Um... The truth is, it was not in my plans to act like this, sir,” she said, anguished, “I already told you it was something that just ... um ... was born out of instinct?”

“Sweetheart, it's nice to know that you can defend yourself,” I assured her, “And that, additionally, you have the instincts of a fierce warrior repressed in your soul. That was made very clear to Katie.”

She looked at me, visibly upset.

“That woman was really horrible, sir,” she declared angrily, “I can't believe how rude she was to you, and then she spoke to me like she was above me. And after that slap she gave me, I just acted without thinking,” she muttered, and huffed through her nose.

I looked at her with a mixture of pride and fun.

“As your boss, I congratulate you on that show of gallantry in fighting for my honor, darling,” I said, “But try not to hit the next time. It wouldn't be good if you got hurt in the process.”

She gave me a half smile and looked at the road again.

“I’m not proud of how I acted, sir, but I'm sure if I ever saw her again I couldn't help but respond to her rudeness similarly,” she said assuredly.

“I know. And that blow to the nose you gave her will teach her to mind her own business,” I said simply, “But to be honest, that fight was a good show. That kind of entertainment is difficult to see.”

“Does getting into a fistfight with a reporter count as entertainment...?” she said with doubt written on her face.

“Of course! It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion!” I exclaimed, closing and lifting my fist in the air with enthusiasm.

She looked at me, cocking her head.

“I can recognize a good show when I see it, darling. Trust me. I am present at the radio theater on Wednesdays and that fight was better than many of the bland stories told there. ”

She frowned, visibly uncomfortable.

“But after getting out of the bathroom, I felt more like a circus animal on stage,” she said sincerely, “Everybody was looking at me.”

“There is nothing wrong with being the center of attention on a stage. After all, the world is a stage, and the stage is a world of entertainment,” I said, squinting and widening my smile.

She bit her lower lip, upset.

“If I’m going to be showing passion on stage, I'd rather be watched because I'm singing,” she said suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow, interested. I leaned a little towards her.

“You still want to be a singer, don't you?” I asked curiously.

“My musical dream sounds ridiculous, right?” she said with a shy smile.

“Absolutely!” I exclaimed. Her face fell with disappointment.

“Ah... do you really think so?” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Of course! Musical dreams are for the deluded who try to climb the mountain of impossibility to achieve fame, and it ends in utter misery,” I said maliciously, “Many don't even have the bare minimum it takes to get alms on the street, and yet they go out of their way to try and entertain a crowd that doesn't want or ask for them.”

She pursed her lips and looked down.

“I already said that I had no talent,” she whispered defeatedly.

“Oh, no, no, no, dear. I didn't say that,” I said, winking at her, “The musical dream is ridiculous only if you don't have what it takes. But you, my dear, have a talent for giving. If anyone can succeed and be a singer by their own abilities, it is you.”

She looked at me in surprise and gave me a sincere smile.

“Thank you, sir,” she said with bright eyes.

I smiled back at her. I liked to see her happy. Truthfully, I liked seeing her happy. That was beginning to worry me.

I stopped short and she stumbled.

“Sir?” she said when she saw that we stopped moving forward.

“Okay, here we are!” I exclaimed, cutting the thread off my own thoughts.

It was Antoine's restaurant. One of the most popular seafood restaurants in the city. It was a wonderful establishment that was a symbol of elegance and distinction in this part of the neighborhood. I looked at Charlotte and rejoiced to see her face light up with excitement.

“Shall we enter?” I asked her and she nodded with a big smile.

We approached the maitre d 'and he took us to our reserved table. The place was really fantastic. Widely lit with chandeliers, huge windows, and pictures on the walls of famous people who had come to eat there. Tables with white tablecloths and wooden chairs with elegant design were distributed harmoniously in the living room. There was a band that played soft jazz on a small stage and several waiters who promptly attended to diners.

After sitting us at a table by a large window near the entrance, a waiter came over to deliver the letter to us. Apart from the glass of whiskey that I had won from Husk in a poker game (with which he later continued to bet, tempting his luck), there had been nothing else in my stomach since lunch, and after all the excitement from that evening, I felt very hungry.

We both requested bisque as a starter. I ordered the etouffée for the main course and had to assure Charlotte that she could order anything she wanted, without worrying about the price. I laughed at her embarrassment when she said he wanted to eat Creole shrimp. The waiter wrote down the order and went to the kitchen.

I rested my cheek on my hand and looked at Charlotte. She stared in wonder at the surroundings. She watched carefully, taking in the details of everything, completely absorbed in her joy.

“Are you happy, sweetheart?” I said with a smile.

She turned to me, becoming aware of my presence again. To my surprise, she widened her smile even further.

“This is incredible, sir!” she said, clapping.

Her gaze sparkled and her bubbling energy was contagious.

“I'm glad you like it,” I said, “The owner of this place is one of the sponsors of the radio. I can attest that it is a very good restaurant.”

“Do you know Mister Pentious?” she said excitedly.

“Unfortunately,” I assured her, “He is usually quite insistent about spending time with me, but I really am not interested in that friendship.”

“Mister Pentious also knew my dad,” she said with a half smile, “And yes, he was quite particular in showing his appreciation by giving us egg trays. Once he gave us so many eggs that we had to distribute them among the workers so that they would not spoil.”

“Without a doubt, he is quite a case,” I said with a hint of exasperation in my voice, “When he found out that I was a taxidermist, he insisted on going to my house for a job.”

“Oh! So you made those over there, sir?” she said, pointing a finger past my shoulder.

I turned to see what she was pointing at. There were three deer heads above the front door. The one in the center was notoriously larger than the other two that accompanied him, side by side.

“You got it right, sweetheart,” I said proudly, “Pentious asked me to prepare those deer heads so they would look imposing enough to put on the wall. The one in the center is one of the largest specimens I ever caught, and the other two he caught himself.”

“I was already thinking that the one in the center did not seem to have been hunted by someone as fragile as him,” she said with a nervous smile.

I chuckled.

“At first he just wanted me to prepare those two little deer,” I explained, “but he couldn't resist after seeing the antlers and the details of mine in my workshop. He was insistent and generous enough to get it, so in the end I decided to sell it,” I concluded simply.

She kept looking at them a little longer. Finally she turned to me.

“When was that, Mister Alastor?” she asked with interest.

“I think about three years ago,” I said, remembering.

“That makes sense. They are so wonderful that I was sure I would remember them,” she said with admiration reflected in her words, “and the majesty they project is characteristic of your work, sir.”

I smiled at such heartfelt flattery.

“It has been so long since I last came to this restaurant! It has changed so much!” she exclaimed.

“I assume you have been here before.”

“Yes, many years ago. I came at least once a month to eat here. Of course, that was up until I was twelve, when my parents were still…” she said, the enthusiasm fading in her voice.

“I see,” I said, straightening up in the seat, “I hope that at least these are good memories brought to you by this site. It would be a shame to have invited you to an establishment with an unfortunate personal story associated with it.”

“Oh, of course they were good moments!” she said, smiling again, “Daddy asked for the etouffée frequently. He would always say: ‘It is the only restaurant in town that can make a pathetic crustacean taste like a delicacy,’” she said, as his voice lowered, “and after demanding the biggest crab, he would say, ‘Charlotte, never take shit from other people. You have to be treated for what you're worth.’”

“He sounds like someone I would get along with,” I said with interest.

She giggled softly as she nodded.

“And over dessert, Mom used to say, ‘Charlotte, honey, I know you like beignes, but you don't have to make it known to the public. You have sugar all over your face,’” she said in a very composed tone.

“It seems as though she took great care of her appearance,” I said, “and that you always liked sweets.”

Charlotte smiled sadly.

“My mom was very beautiful, but I inherited many more of Dad's physical features, including his height. Dad's friends used to tease him a lot about it, and he got mad that they made fun of his height. They didn’t know how to explain how he had managed to captivate a woman as majestic as my mother. Mom always managed to make him feel better with her attention, always assuring him that she had not fallen in love with him because of his appearance, nor because of his height, but because of who he was. Furthermore, she was the only one who could tell him that his height made him look completely adorable; he was never able to get mad at her…”

Charlotte sighed. She picked up one of her forks and started spinning it in her hand.

“They loved each other very much,” she assured with a wistful smile.

I looked at her closely, hoping she would say something else. But she just closed her eyes tight, swallowed hard, and sighed again.

“They sound like very good parents,” I said to cut the silence.

“I’m sorry for the pointless chatter, Mister Alastor,” she said quickly.

“I enjoy the talk. Don’t worry about it,” I assured her.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.

“You know? I would have liked so much if they met you,” she said, still playing with her fork, “I think you and my father would have gotten along very well. I feel like you both would have similar life philosophies. It’s thanks to him that I have a liking for music, and from my mother, a love for the performing arts and dance. ”

She smiled at me with effort.

In all the time I had known Charlotte, she rarely spoke of her parents. It was a sensitive topic for her, and asking her more had only brought about her crying bitterly, which had ended the conversation in the past. Frankly, I didn't want that to happen again, so I didn't want to dwell on it anymore.

“Perhaps, had you and I met in other circumstances, things would have been very different,” she said with a sad smile.

I agreed. If it had not been for the death of her parents and the economic crisis, surely we would have run into each other at a party. Charlotte would probably be very different from the same girl in front of me. As the only child, dependent and delusional thanks to a rich family, it would have been easy for me to reach her with some sweet words, to finish captivating her with some simple corny acts. I was sure I would have won her parents' favor over other suitors just by having Charlotte's acceptance. I could have her at my mercy and have her fortune at my convenience. Looking at it from a distance, and after years of knowing her at her worst, it was almost a relief to be aware that the possibility of having met her back then was nothing more than a fantasy.

I propped my elbows on the table and clasped my hands.

“In truth, I would not wish to change anything, darling,” I said, looking into her eyes, “Things are perfect as they are.”

She looked at me in surprise and dropped the fork on the table.

“Wouldn't you have liked to meet my parents?” she said, hurt.

“It would certainly have been a real pleasure to have been able to meet your parents, darling,” I pointed out, “but if things hadn't happened as they happened, you and I probably wouldn't be here.”

With her gaze she invited me to continue.

“Had you not arrived at my house, naked and afraid, two years ago, we would not have been able to share the same table on a daily basis, nor would you have been able to speak honestly about what you like and don't like, nor would you have had the opportunity to exploit your potential in all the new things you have learned. You have grown much and are more independent now.”

I leaned over towards her a little on the table and looked her in the eye.

“Also, nothing assures us that we could have known each other the way we do or that we would have gotten along well. So, in short, I prefer to rescue the positive from everything that happened instead of lamenting the possibilities that could never be realized. The truth is, I am truly grateful to your parents for bringing you into the world, and grateful to fate for how things happened so that our lives would cross in that forest.”

I smiled at her, letting my eyelids drop. Charlotte was paralyzed in her place. She opened her mouth several times before being able to say anything. Finally, she was unable to speak and looked down at the table.

At that moment the waiter arrived and each of us was served a plate of bisque. He uncapped a bottle of white wine and poured the contents into both glasses.

“Bon appetit,” he said, and left.

I tried the broth. It was really wonderful. Charlotte was still absorbed in her thoughts.

“My dear, eat,” I said, “It's just the starter, but it's deli…”

“Mister Alastor,” she interrupted, looking at me with bright eyes and a determined expression “Are you really happy to have met me?”

I couldn't help but chuckle. Oh my sweet Charlotte. She was so transparent.

“Do you doubt it, sweetheart?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“I enjoy working for you, sir,” she said firmly, “I try to do my best to make you happy; that was the deal I agreed to follow when I arrived at your home: ensuring your happiness. The truth is that I am very grateful to you and very happy to be able to share my day-to-day with you, so…” her speech was interrupted and she looked at the table again.

My eyelids dropped a little more, as I rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“Do you need to know if I'm happy with your work?” I said, looking at her.

She slowly nodded. My smile widened.

“If I was not satisfied, you would no longer be working for me,” I said, looking at her, “You would not be wearing a new dress, nor would you be dining here with me. Everything you receive from me is what I believe you deserve. No more, no less.”

She inhaled deeply and released a long breath.

“I see,” she said with a disappointed tone in her voice, but with a smile, “Then, I'm glad to hear that you agree with what I'm doing, sir. And until the day you no longer require my services, I will do my best to continue making you happy,” she concluded with a look of pride.

I raised my glass to her. Charlotte followed suit and hit hers with mine in a soft clink.

“I want to toast to you, sweetheart,” I said solemnly, looking her in the eyes, “because you make the days brighter, because I always know that I will be greeted with music at my home, and because every Sunday I will have, sacredly, a good plate of homemade jambalaya on the table.”

She laughed heartily. She cleared her throat and looked me in the eye.

“I would like to toast you, Mister Alastor,” she said, “For taking me into your home when I literally had nothing. I toast to you because I will not be able to thank you enough, in this life, for the second opportunity to live that you gave me when I had already fallen into despair and ... ”

I looked at her with interest.

“And for how you always manage to make me smile,” she said with a wide grin.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. Something was very wrong here.

“To our health,” I said, and clinked my glass again with hers. I drank half the content at once. She also drank from her glass and sighed with satisfaction.

“It has been a long time since I drank white wine,” she said enthusiastically.

She took her spoon and sipped his soup. Her eyes widened with shock and she continued to eat with more enthusiasm. I stifled a laugh and straightened up. It was so funny to see her expressions so clearly.

“It tastes great!” she exclaimed.

“Only the best quality for us, my dear,” I said, laughing.

“The dinner I made last year, for this same date, cannot compare with this restaurant. The main course of that venison stew was a little overcooked that time,” she concluded, ashamed.

“You've improved a lot this year in the kitchen, it's true,” I said, grabbing my spoon, “but it seemed appropriate to go out to eat for the occasion. If you like, we could make this restaurant an annual tradition.”

She laughed and nodded.

“Sounds like I'll be with you for a long time,” she said.

“Oh, you can't get rid of me that easily, sweetheart,” I said mischievously.

She blushed and quickly continued to drink from her soup.

We finish the appetizer quickly. The waiter returned soon after to remove the empty dishes, and to replace them with the main dish that each of us had ordered. They were quite large and generously portioned plates.

“I didn't remember how big they were!” Charlotte said enthusiastically.

We start eating right away. I must admit that from the look of Charlotte's plate and how much she seemed to enjoy it, I would consider ordering at the next opportunity.

“That's so good!” she said while she was adding lemon to one of the prawns, “When I came as a child, I used to eat only fried potatoes, and then beignes with ice cream for dessert. I feel like I missed a lot.”

“It's easy to imagine a little Charlotte in front of a glass of ice cream,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, there is a photo of that in…” she said, remaining in the middle of a sentence.

“Charlotte?” I said puzzled.

“There is a photo. There is a photo hanging in this restaurant,” she said, opening her eyes wide, and her gaze went to a back wall full of framed photographs.

Charlotte jumped to her feet and ran, staring at that wall. I decided to follow her. I came to her as she inspected each painting urgently, muttering to herself. Then, almost in the lower right corner, Charlotte stopped.

“I found her,” she said, shocked. She pulled the photograph off the wall and looked at it closely. “It’s really still here.”

She turned to me with a longing look and passed it to me. It was a photograph, barely larger than my hand, where three people were seen sitting at one of the tables in the restaurant. There was the father, a man with light hair and a big smile, an elegant and tall woman who smiled with distinction, and right in the center, there was a little blonde girl with huge eyes and a face stained with, what seemed to be, chocolate ice cream. It was a memory of the Magne family. A small piece of history rescued on paper, which now existed only in Charlotte's memories and behind glass covered with dust on this old wall.

“You haven't changed much,” I said, paying attention to the mini Charlotte in the photograph. Her enthusiastic gaze remained intact.

She smiled at me.

“That was the day I turned eleven,” she said, looking at the photo, “Dad had ordered so much ice cream for me that I ended up sick to my stomach for two days.”

“Charming,” I said with a huff.

“Dad brought a photographer to take this picture for us that day,” she continued, “but when Mister Pentious saw us, he asked for a copy to hang on the wall. He said that a family as special and sophisticated as ours, enjoying his restaurant, deserved to be exhibited there.”

“Were all your family photos taken by your uncles with everything else to France?”

“Yes,” she said with a sad smile.

“Hm…” I muttered, looking around. Suddenly, I put the photograph in my jacket.

Charlotte looked at me in shock.

“ Mister Alastor!” she whispered in panic.

“Yes, dear?” I said, looking at her with a jagged smile.

“You can’t do that!”

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about, dearest,” I said, lifting an eyebrow, “I’m only doing a favor for a certain lady who would be very happy to conserve this memory, who, even though she wishes dearly to have this photo, is incapable of taking it for herself.”

Despite her inicial surprise, she smiled smoothly at me, visibly moved.

“Let's go back to the table,” I said, directing myself towards it, “the food is going to get cold.”

She followed me.

The rest of the meal continued amidst laughter and little anecdotes from Charlotte's early life. She mentioned to me that on one occasion she had taken her father's favorite hat before a party and stuck a small porcelain apple in the bow. All day long he had worn the hat without realizing the change, and only noticed it when his wife mentioned it to him. But he had not been bothered by Charlotte, instead taking her into his arms and congratulating her on her sense of taste. That touched the other partygoers, earning him the nickname “Apple Daddy” in the community ever since.

I was glad we had found the photo of Charlotte's parents. Somehow, it had been a balm for her overwhelmed heart, and it had allowed her to be able to talk about it without crying. The atmosphere was charged with the band's soft jazz and Charlotte's sweet voice. I felt like the useless Pentious had done something right for once.

The waiter came back again, this time with a dessert cart. Charlotte ordered the beignes without hesitation, while I only ordered a cup of coffee without sugar. After removing the dirty dishes, he left.

I looked at Charlotte. She was enjoying her dessert with enthusiasm. Almost like déjà vú, her cheeks were filled with the sugar of the sponge cake. I leaned into her, reached my hand up to her cheek, and wiped the excess sugar off with my thumb. She looked at me with her mouth ajar as the warmth of her cheek invaded my hand. I just smiled.

“You had remains of the beigne, dearest,” I said simply.

She looked at me and looked like she was going to tell me something, but was interrupted.

“Where's the Magne picture?!” we heard a panicked male voice nearby.

“I promise you it was here today, Sir Pentious!" a small bald man said to him in despair, “No one has changed a thing!”

Charlotte turned towards me and looked on with eyes filled with guilt. She pursed her lips and sunk into her seat. I remained calm, putting my finger to my lips, indicating to her that she not say anything. Petious looked around in desperation past the clients seated near him, and he fixed his gaze upon us. His eyes widened as I saw him hurry towards us in my peripheral vision.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Alastor!” he said with a triumphant smile, “It seems as though we meet again!”

“Do I know you?” I said, looking him up and down and smiling maliciously.

He seemed disappointed by my comment, judging by his expression. He leaned over the table and faced me.

“Oh, yes you do!” he fumed, “how could you forget one of the sponsors of your radio?”

I laughed out loud.

“Take it easy, Pentious, I’m just kidding,” I said, downplaying it.

“Really?” he said, his expression changing to one where he appeared deeply moved, “I knew you couldn’t forget your good friend.”

To say that he was my “friend” seemed to stretch the truth to its breaking point. However, I decided to let it go this time. Pentious was a tall, slender man with long black hair that he wore loosely. It seemed to have a defined, rigid shape. He had a prominent canines that caused him to hiss when saying the letters s, c, and z, like a bipedal snake in a striped smocking. He wore a huge top hat and expected all his employees to call him “Sir Pentious.”

“So... it appears as though there’s been a theft, I overheard?” I said naturally. Charlotte continued to sink into her seat, as if she wanted to hide under the table.

“Oh, yes!” cried Pentious, “Someone has taken the only photo of Apple Daddy Magne and his family that I had on my wall!”

“We really wouldn’t know how to help you,” I said calmly, looking at Charlotte, “My dear, do you know anything about this?”

She bolted upright in her seat and shook her head hard.

“Oh, what a shame!” he lamented, then looked at Charlotte in detail, “Wait a moment… it can’t be! It’s you!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in horror.

“Alastor is dating a girl!” he said with all the enthusiasm of a girl celebrating her sixteenth birthday, “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie! It’s been years since you’ve brought someone out to eat here!”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say, and looked towards me, tilting her head.

“Once I brought Mimzy here to close the contract with her regarding my percentages as an investor in her club,” I explained.

“I still don’t understand how you considered investing in her business in comparison to mine, Alastor,” he said, hurt.

“Lust and simple living is something that proliferates more than good taste in food, Pentious,” I said, giving him a sideways glance.

The rivalry between Mimzy and Petious was well known. Both offered different types of entertainment, but I had opted out for Mimzy’s as my boredom outweighed my hunger for fine cuisine.

“Oh, yes. Her business is so vulgar. I remember that day you brought Mimzy here so drunk that she fell asleep on the table,” said Pentious dismissively. He then turned to Charlotte.

“But you seem like a good girl.”

Charlotte smiled at him very nervously.

“Well then... why were you looking for that photograph?” I asked casually.¿Por qué estabas buscando una fotografía?” dije casualmente.

“Oh, that’s right!” he yelled in a panic, “I needed that photograph! I was going to give it to him as a great surprise when he came out to eat!”

“A surprise for who?” Charlotte said with a frown.

“For the older brother of Apple Daddy Magne,” said Pentious, crossing himself, “Mister Michael Magne is coming for a visit to New Orleans from France.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	8. Lost & Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We end this night with two photos and a new enigma.

We walked through Congo Square in an uncomfortable silence. Mister Alastor walked with me, smiling as always, while I kept looking at the road, not paying much attention to where my steps were leading me.

My mind was stunned. After meeting Mister Pentious, all that he had mentioned after the fact that my uncle was in town were just muffled voices to me. I didn’t even remember when Mister Alastor had paid the bill or how we got up and reached the street.

“That was a great dinner!” Mister Alastor said naturally, “and it's a good thing that Pentious gifted you some beignets.”

The paper bag in my hand with the beignets in it was being crushed by the force with which I was holding it.

“It is fortunate that President Roosevelt has abolished the dry law so recently,” he added, “If I had shared a white meat dinner with only water, it wouldn't have been such a good accompaniment, right, darling?”

I knew what he was trying to do. But I didn’t want to speak. I couldn't cry either. I felt like my brain was numb. I just wanted to lock myself in until my uncle was no longer in New Orleans.

It had been a bitter trick of fate to learn that my uncle had arrived a few days ago, just as I was celebrating two years of living with Mr. Alastor. Two years since my uncle had handed me over to some men who had punched me and planned to kill me, only for me to escape. It was two years since my life had radically changed.

I sighed bitterly and hugged myself. My stomach churned with my nerves. Too many things had happened in just one day.

“Are you cold?” Mr. Alastor asked me, looking out of the corner of his eye.

“It's colder now than it was in the afternoon,” I said quietly.

“You were freezing this morning, dear,” he told me.

“The cold went away when I left home,” I said with a shrug, “I kept the stove burning almost all day. Maybe there is some air leakage in the walls. Tomorrow I will look for it.”

Another awkward silence. The jazz sound of traveling musicians came to us and gained strength as we went along.

“Mister Alastor, can we go home?” I said with pleading eyes

“Do you want to go back already?” he asked me, looking at his watch, “I was hoping to do something else before that.”

“Actually, I feel like I’ve lost the desire to think and feel for today,” I said, heartbroken, and sighed again.

“Honey, it's ridiculous to feel that way because of your uncle,” he said, waving a hand, like he was shooing away a fly, “I don't think he's interested in going to visit you, so I don´t think you will run into him.”

This was true. The last time we saw each other, he didn't seem at all remorseful when he left me behind, but even so, I couldn't stop being worried.

“Do you suspect his visit?” he said.

“He has nothing left around here,” I said dryly, “The only people here are those who want to see him dead for everything he did.”

I massaged my temples.

“There has to be something worthwhile enough to take that risk of coming,” I said.

“Probably for money,” he said, “There is no other distasteful reason as to why a sinner would risk so much.”

“But that doesn't make sense. There isn't a single penny to his name here,” I said, disgruntled, “Everything that was the inheritance of the Magne family corresponded to me according to dad's will. And nothing remained of that fortune. Selling the cotton farm is something he took care of and profited from with what he could get out of it. It can't just be for money.”

“Hm…” he mumbled, putting his hand on his chin and closing his eyes.

“Anyway, I'm sorry I ruined dinner, sir,” I said with sorrow.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” he said with a mischievous smile, “Taking the picture made Pentious loosen his tongue. Your uncle's visit was supposed to be incognito. It is quite valuable information.”

“I wish I hadn't found out. At least that way I would be calmer.”

“Don´t worry,” he said, “He thinks you died in a swamp ditch years ago. Your being alive is the last thing he would wish if it had anything to do with your heritage.”

He was right. If Uncle Michael wanted to do something about my father's finances, what was less convenient for him was me being alive. I sighed again in frustration, putting a hand to my face. I glanced at Mister Alastor. He was looking at me with a raised eyebrow and his unflappable smile.

“Thank you for listening to my concerns, Mister Alastor,” I said with a half smile, “Sometimes it's hard to talk about certain topics, but I suppose that once in a while one has to unlock their own heart and say all that we keep inside so that it doesn’t end up rotting.”

“Without proper practice, excess thinking can be truly uncomfortable,” he said calmly.

We got to where the musicians were. All of them were African-American and played splendidly. Some people had stopped to listen to them in the middle of their night walk. I thought we would continue on, but Mister Alastor put a hand on my shoulder and looked at me.

“Wait here, sweetheart,” he said.

Mister Alastor approached the group of musicians, took out a few dollars from his jacket, and put them into the hat that was on the floor.

“Could you play something special for the lady, gentlemen?” he said to the musicians, who were surprised by the generous tip, “On my signal.”

There was a general affirmation among the men and then they looked at me sympathetically.

“Come here, my dear,” he said confidently, “I think I have just what you need.”

“What...?” I tried to say without understanding anything.

“Maybe singing will distract you a little,” he said, “Now, gentlemen!” Mister Alastor ordered the band, cheerfully.

Immediately, they began to play a pleasant melody. I stiffened and felt the colors rise to my face. I looked in panic at Mister Alastor, who snapped his fingers to the beat of the music.

“Um... Mister Alastor, I'm not sure about this…” I said nervously. I looked at the people around, who began to observe us with interest.

“It will be a great opportunity to rehearse your stage performance and to warm up,” he said, approaching me with his hands behind his back.

I grabbed my cheeks in horror, letting go of the bag in my hand and the beignets rushed to the floor.

“But…” I tried to refute.

“Come on, dear, I will help you get started,” he said, winking knowingly.

I looked at him curiously and he cleared his throat.

**You make me smile, you make me dream.**

He sang, putting his fingers on his cheeks and widening his smile.

**I feel you running under... under my skin**

He ran his fingers over his outstretched arm.

**I spend the nights talking to you.**

He walked around me while still looking at me

**Unveiling those feelings that's so untrue.**

He turned on his heel and reached out for me to continue.

“Go on, my dear!” he said.

I laughed and sighed with resignation. I assumed I had no choice. 

**An angel at night, a demon by day**

I sang shyly.

He chuckled.

**I can't stop praying... so hard to say**

I smiled nervously.

**Searching for protection in your embrace.**

I walked rhythmically in front of him.

**Into the glass I find your familiar face.**

“That’s it!” he cheered me on.

**And when you unlock my heart,**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

I sang livelier and started to move my hips while dancing.

**A world of colors in my mind,**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

“So? Have you warmed up yet?” he said, smiling.

I laughed.

“Yes.” I replied.

“This isn’t over yet, sweetheart,” he said, touching the tip of my nose playfully, “Show your talent to the world.”

I smiled and took a breath to continue.

**You tell me lies I want to believe**

**Awaiting my empty nights with magic to fill.**

I sang more carefreely.

**I need to feel your warmin' touch.**

He took my hand and joined me in singing the last verse together.

**Cause daily routine wasn't made for us!**

We sang, tapping a few steps.

**And when you unlock my heart.**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

We sang as we spun, holding hands.

**And when you unlock my heart. Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

We sang happily, looking at each other and putting our shoulders together.

He helped me up onto one of the long concrete seats in the park and we started dancing on it. We danced to the beat of the music. I was ecstatic. He dropped me onto his arm and I stood up again, laughing. There was no one else in the world but us and the music. When the rhythm was repeated, I sang again, this time by myself. 

**And when you unlock my heart.**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

I sang without fear 

**And when you unlock my heart.**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

I put my hand on my chest and closed my eyes, giving myself to the music.

Suddenly, I heard that the music had stopped, and only clapping and a chorus of male voices from the musicians accompanied me, the clarinet being the only one that continued to play.

**And when you unlock my heart.**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find**.

Mister Alastor got out of the seat and left me alone on my makeshift stage. 

**And when you unlock my heart.**

**Is like a journey to a star.**

**A world of colors in my mind.**

**An island of treasures every night I find.**

I finished the song by stretching out my arms, my eyes closed.

There was an outburst of applause from both the musicians and curious passers-by who had stayed to watch the spontaneous show. I was surprised by the magnitude of the ovation. I looked at Mister Alastor with an excited smile, and he offered me his hand, helping me down from the seat.

I bowed to the audience and saw how the group of musicians were given large tips.

“I told you that you were talented,” Mister Alastor told me confidently, “You just got a standing ovation, dear.”

I smiled shyly and went to the musicians.

“Thank you so much for everything,” I told them.

“Come here more often!” said the trumpeter, and the others happily bid me farewell, shaking my hand.

I laughed. I felt much calmer and with a liberating feeling in my chest. Suddenly, something warm covered my back. Mister Alastor had put his new jacket on my shoulders, and I felt enveloped in its heat and aroma. I turned and looked at him in surprise.

“Just in case the music wasn't enough to warm you up,” he said, shrugging.

“Thank you,” I said shyly, feeling myself blush, “And thanks for trying to make me feel better, Mister Alastor.”

“Oh dear, I'm just a selfish being,” he said with a hand on his chest and a big smile.

I saw him walk before me, humming carelessly. I never knew when he was lying to me or when he was telling me the truth. But, somehow, I knew that he cared about me, and that made my heart beat with happiness.

“Now we can call it a night,” he said, turning around with a satisfied expression, “The only thing that remained pending was to agree on the day of the transfer of Mimzy's piano, but there will be time to fix that,” he said with disinterest.

“I almost forgot that tomorrow we must get up early,” I said, feeling the tiredness beginning to take over my body, “I'm sure the blows from the fight are going to hurt me tomorr…”

I cut myself off in the middle of the sentence. Mister Alastor had disappeared from my range of vision in the blink of an eye.

“Mister Alastor?” I said, turning around, looking for him in the surroundings.

Suddenly, a brown puppy trotted past me. He had a beignet in his muzzle and I suspected it was one that I had dropped minutes before. The animal sniffed around and urinated on a light pole, then kept going. It was then that I heard a sigh behind a nearby tree. It was Mister Alastor, who leaned out with a panicked expression in his eyes and a tight smile. His eyes followed the small dog that was lost to sight in the distance. Only until he was sure the dog was gone, he came out of his hiding place. He straightened his bowtie and stood before me again, as if nothing had happened.

“Um…sir?”

“Yes, dear?” he said completely naturally.

“Are you afraid of dogs?” I said, almost without thinking.

“Oh, I hate those terrible spawns of hell,” he said, squinting, “and they hate me.”

I blinked in amazement. It was the first time I had seen him act so nervous and totally destabilized in his unwavering composure.

“I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about what you saw, sweetheart. I would have to cut your tongue off!” and he started laughing very loudly.

“Not a single soul will know,” I assured him, nodding.

We looked at each other for a few moments, until I couldn't help but laugh. I had to cover my mouth with one hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled under my breath as I tried to hold back my laughter.

I saw him roll his eyes and then sigh in annoyance.

“You're going to lose your tongue,” he replied, and I felt a strange pressure caused by his discomfort.

I cleared my throat, inhaled deeply, and was able to stifle the laughter at last.

“I'm sorry,” I said nervously, smiling, “I promise I will never say anything about it. I promise.”

He looked at me for a few moments in silence, judging the veracity of my words. Finally, he offered me his arm once more, and we headed for the tram.

It was a silent ride, sitting together on the transport, while our shoulders touched. Mister Alastor looked out the window, while I clung to the wonderful aroma that his jacket gave off and enveloped my body in. I exhaled with satisfaction. Within everything that had happened that day, I felt happy in that little moment.

After getting off the tram, a long walk through the cobblestone followed. The full moon illuminated the desolate path for us. We finally got home.

As if it were innate, I started my maid work the moment I entered the house. I took off Mister Alastor's jacket and folded it over my arm. I looked at the time on the clock in the living room. It was almost ten at night. An hour late from the time we usually went to sleep.

“Mister Alastor, do you want to drink something before going to bed?” I asked, turning to him.

He chuckled softly.

“No, dear,” he said, “May I?”

I offered him the jacket and he took it in his hands. He rummaged inside the lining and pulled out the photograph of my family. He looked at it a moment before handing it to me.

“You should put this somewhere special, Charlotte,” he said.

I looked at the photograph carefully and with melancholy. It was a precious memory that I had not expected to recover, despite the great anguish that it had caused Mister Pentius to lose it. I stroked the frame of the photo and turned to the mantelpiece, where the other photograph of the house rested: that of Mister Alastor in his childhood with his mother. Carefully, I put them next to each other and smiled.

“If it's okay with you, I'd like to leave this here, sir,” I said, turning to him.

“It seems perfect,” he said, approaching me.

We both looked at the photographs in a strange, relaxed atmosphere. A pang of guilt assailed my heart when I remembered something.

“I haven't been to visit my parents' graves in a long time,” I said suddenly, “I don't know what state their graves would be in. I should go clean it up and bring them some flowers.”

I sighed and hugged myself.

“I really have never been to visit their graves,” I muttered, mortified, “Since they passed away, I haven't had the courage to go to the Magne mausoleum. I feel like a terrible daughter.”

“If you want, I can accompany you,” he said kindly, “I don’t recommend going to the cemetery alone. Grave robbers would not hesitate to steal from you.”

“Thank you very much sir,” I said from the bottom of my heart, “Mister Alastor, if you wish to, you could visit your mother's grave too.”

He looked at me in silence, while he seemed to ponder his answer.

“I really don't know where she's buried,” he said with a shrug, “She died of Spanish flu and was buried with many others to avoid spreading the already declared pandemic.”

“She passed away from the Spanish flu?” I said in horror.

“Oh, it was awful,” he said while smiling and taking the photograph of his mother in his hands, “She died in three days. She had a fever of 104 °, diarrhea, and violent vomiting for two days, until she died in her sleep, drowning in her own blood at a community hospital. They didn’t notify me until her corpse had been taken with all those who died that day. So, her body rests with many others in one of the many mass graves in the cemetery.”

I didn't want to interrupt him. His manner of speaking was a little softer than usual. He seemed to notice that I was looking at him and changed his tone immediately.

“Well! We all die in the end! That's the only sure thing in this life!” he said cheerfully, as he arranged the photograph, again, in its place.

I was completely sure that his mother's death had hurt him, and knowing that in just three days he had lost her, without being able to say goodbye, was something that was still latent in him. I wanted to tell him that I understood his pain, but I didn't want to pressure him to speak. I looked at my photograph again.

“We can go and give your mother flowers too. Even without knowing where her remains are,” I said without looking at him, “I can put a bouquet of flowers right here at home. In honor of our parents. I'm sure they would like that. But only if you are alright with it, sir.”

I still didn't look at him. There was an unusual silence between the two of us and, for a moment, I felt that we both didn't know what to say. I began to fear that I would have offended him. It wasn't until I felt his gentle hand caress my hair that I was able to relax. I turned towards him out of inertia, but Mister Alastor was already walking towards his room.

“It was a pleasant evening, my dear!” he said with his back to me and his hands behind his back. I couldn't see his expression. “You can place the flowers if you want. Daffodils were her favorites.”

For some reason, I was excited about it.

“I will do it tomorrow!” I said cheerfully, “I'll take some of the surroundings! She sure will love them!”

He stopped and turned a little to look at me.

“By the way, I'm sure she would have loved to have met you.” He smiled more widely and then continued on his way to the stairs. “Good night.”

I stood in the middle of the room. I was overwhelmed for an instant. That day, Mr. Alastor had spoken to me about sensitive topics for him, and I felt that I could be worthy of that trust. I was exhausted and happy. And I had a new mission to make him happy too: put flowers up daily for his mother.

I sighed deeply and looked at the photograph of my parents again. I pressed my fingers to my lips and then put them on the cold surface of the glass.

“Good night, Mom and Dad,” I said, smiling wistfully.

I went to my room and prepared for bed. I took off my clothes and put on my nightgown to sleep almost without thinking. As I curled up in my bed, next to Mister Alastor's bloodstained jacket, I immediately succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

“Charlotte. Come Charlotte. I need you to come here now.”

I was following that voice. It was irresistible and powerful. I wasn't sure who it was. But I had to go. It was a strict order.

“Charlotte. Charlotte. You have to get to me.”

I felt like I hit something warm with my head. With the unmistakable aroma of Mister Alastor on my nose. It was cold. Too cold. I trembled uncontrollably. I raised my head in the dark and could barely make out Mister Alastor smiling at me. He held me in a tight hug.

I was stunned. I didn't know if it was reality or a dream. His breathing and scent were too vivid for a dream, but there was something strange. We were standing in the lobby, in the middle of the dark, and the front door was open.

“Mis... Mist…” I tried to say, but my teeth chattered.

“Charlotte, my dear, this is getting worse,” I heard him whisper.

Without warning, he took me in his arms and carried me back to my room. He settled me in my bed and covered me with the blankets. I was shaking, completely covered up to my nose with the covers. I heard Mister Alastor leave the room and come back again. I felt one more weight on me. He had put extra blankets on . Then, he turned on the light on the nightstand and, almost immediately, the cold in my body began to lessen.

I don’t know how much time passed by, but little by little, I felt my violent tremors cease in the heat of my bed. Mister Alastor only looked at me, standing up, illuminated by the dim light of the lamp. I felt safe knowing he was taking care of me.

Without realizing it, I fell back into the abyss of dreams. I didn't hear that voice calling me again for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! It was a terrible week. Personal issues made me sick with worry. This fanfic has helped me a lot to focus on more than just problems.  
> The song they were singing is called: Liquid Paradise https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viA-yZnwEBU  
> It seemed appropriate for them to sing it as a duet on the street spontaneously.  
> Get ready that from here things begin to darken  
> The next chapter will be full of emotion.
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	9. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the demons of the past take shape, it is better to be prepared.

“It is almost five o'clock in the afternoon and we continue with good music. This is 'Memories of you.’” I said into the microphone cheerfully.

I gave the signal, and from the cabin, they began to play the song. I leaned back in the seat to hear better with my headphones.

I started thinking about Charlotte and the night before. Just like two nights ago, she walked around the house asleep again. Her footsteps creaking on the hallway wood caused me to wake up like before. It was then that I saw her walking, when I peeked from my room. She was in her nightgown again, her gaze lost in space, a clear sign of her sleepwalking status. Only, this time, I had followed her long enough to see where she was going.

It was when Charlotte reached the hall and opened the front door that I stopped her. And, just like the last time, when I got in front of her and moved her a little, she collapsed on top of me, and I had to grab her tight so she didn't fall to the floor. She was trembling violently. Her touch was too cold for the temperature in the house, and unlike the previous time, she was unable to even speak.

At that moment, I took Charlotte in my arms and carried her to her room. I covered her with more blankets and turned on the light to ward off the cold. I whispered a warm mantra under my breath and watched her until she fell asleep.

I couldn't help but notice that the bloody jacket I'd asked her to throw away was on her bed. She had been sleeping in that old jacket. I think my smile widened even more when I found it out. Sweet Charlotte had quite interesting secrets.

That same morning, I had let her sleep a little more. I made my breakfast quickly. Only when I was ready to go out, did I hear her jumping out of bed and onto her feet.

“Mister Alastor! I'm so sorry..!” she had said to me in a rush, still disheveled and tying the belt on her robe, “Breakfast! The one with...!”

I raised a hand to stop her, calmly.

“Calm down, my dear,” I had said to her, “It was I who took the alarm clock out of your room. I thought you needed a little more rest. You didn't even notice all the noise I made when I dragged a dead deer into the basement recently!” and I laughed.

I stroked her head with a light thump as I approached her.

She was still breathing hard. She looked at me with confused eyes.

“But…” she tried to say.

“There's fresh coffee if you’d like some.” I interrupted her.

I went to the exit and turned to look at her.

“Take it easy today.”

“Aren’t you going to wear a jacket to work?” she said, horrified.

“My jacket stayed at Rosie's place along with everything else I brought before I put on my new outfit. I'll come get it all before I get to the station. After work, I will go to Mimzy's premises to coordinate the transport of the piano, but I will arrive for dinner on time.”

“Mister Alastor,” she said firmly.

“Yes, dear?” I said.

“Here.” She handed me a white handkerchief. One of hers. “It’s to replace the one you gave me yesterday.” She showed me the handkerchief that I had given her the day before after the fight, “This was all dirty with my dried blood and tears, and last night I did not leave it soaking. I doubt you’d want to keep it ”

“Give me that too, sweetheart,” I said, snatching it from her hands and putting it in my shirt pocket, next to the target.

She looked at me in surprise.

“But it's all battered…” she said.

“And I want to keep it,” I replied calmly.

After a couple of seconds of not knowing what to say, she smiled.

“Have a nice day, Mister Alastor,” she said sincerely.

“You too, Charlotte! It will be a splendid day!” I assured her, “See you in the evening,” I told her, and left.

Charlotte's strange sleepwalking was an enigma. I suspected the potential cause of all this, but needed proof before making any moves.

**Waking skies, at sunrise**

**Every sunset too Seems to be,**

**bringing me Memories of you**

**Here and there, every where**

**Scenes that we once knew And they all, just recall**

**Memories of you**

**(Oh) How I wish I could forget those,**

**(those) happy yesteryears**

**That have left a rosary of tears**

**Your face beams, in my dreams**

**(In) Spite of all (that) I do (And)**

**Everything seems to bring Memories of you**

The song ended. The light of the “On Air” sign came on again.

“We could keep the music going all day!” I said when they gave me the pass, “but it's time to say hello to our beloved sponsor at the great Antoine's restaurant, located at 713 rue St. Louis. Remember to request your reservations in advance. As a personal recommendation I will tell you to try the etouffée. I went to eat there last night and it was fantastic!”

Recorded applause sounded.

“It's officially five in the afternoon, and we bid farewell to the Radio Demon segment with a personal request. One of my favorite songs: 'I'll Do My Best to Make You Happy' by Ray Noble, to accompany this pleasant Tuesday afternoon,” I said leaning back on the table.

“This has been all for today. Until tomorrow, dear listeners.” I walked over to the microphone and said in a near whisper, “Now, stay tuned.”

The luminous sign went out, indicating that it had come off the air.

The commercial for Antoine's restaurant started playing, and I took off my headphones and stood up. I left the voice booth to make the shift change in the afternoon. I marked my attendance card on the machine, put on my jacket and bag. I waved goodbye to the local workers and left.

I smiled when I saw that the sky was completely orange. The sun was already setting at that hour. The street lamps were already on. It was something normal in the last days of January. This was due to the shortening of the days produced by being in the middle of winter.

I went quickly to get on the tram headed towards Mimzy's Palace. The subject of the piano had been left pending, so it was better to settle it immediately. On the turned on radios of the houses that had been tuning in to my program, I heard them sounding in chorus down the street 'I'll Do My Best to Make You Happy.’ That same melody accompanied me throughout my journey on the tram.

**I'll do my best to make you happy**

**To help you see the brighter side**

**So long as I can make you happy**

**I'll be satisfied**

**I'll do my best to make life worthwhile**

**Whatever fortune may betide**

**So long as I can make you happy I'll be satisfied**

**So make the most of fun and laughter**

**That's what I always say**

**Why count the cost of what comes after**

**Don't meet your troubles, don't meet them halfway**

**I'll do my best to make you happy**

**Your friend, your counsel and guide**

**So long as I can make you happy**

**I'll be satisfied**

I arrived at Mimzy's Palace without a hitch. The people who could still afford to spend money on fun were already there, using the best paraphernalia they had. It was all laughs at the palace. The loud music of the band on duty and the powerful aroma of tobacco and alcohol in the atmosphere were suffocating. People wore beaded necklaces and masks, which were handed out by workers at the club entrance. I did not accept the necklaces, but I found the mask attractive, and I kept it. It seemed that only recently Christmas and New Year had been celebrated. The dizzying pace of this city kept track of the festivities dutifully, in order to immediately think of the next one; in this case, the Mardi Gras that would take place in a few more weeks.

I went to the bar, where Husk was dozing, leaning on one arm with some necklaces of beads hanging around his neck. I sat down on one of the empty stools and chuckled to see that he didn't flinch.

“Sleeping during business hours?” I said, squinting with amusement, “Vaggie better not see you, or she'll tell Mimzy and throw you out, my dear Husk.”

Half asleep, he looked at me and growled.

“Here again,” he said, and yawned, “How was dinner with my money, you piece of shit?” he concluded with a frown, resting his arms on the bar to lean towards me, trying to appear threatening.

“Oh, it was fabulous!” I exclaimed, hugging him by the shoulders, “I appreciate your kind sponsorship again, my friend. Charlotte and I were very pleased with the food.”

“Shuddup!” he yelled at me, pushing me away, “I still don't know how you do it, Alastor! But I will figure out how you always win!”

I chuckled and leaned against the bar.

“You sound like a bad loser, Husk,” I said maliciously, “but can I give you a chance to win another poker game this time? For our friendship?”

I saw him hesitate for a moment, but he ended up hitting the bar with his fists and shaking his head.

“NO! I will not fall for your tricks again!” he said with a threatening finger.

“You’re missing out,” I said simply, “By the way, is Mimzy here today?”

“She's in her office,” he growled.

“Magnificent,” I said, and stood up, “If you need me, I'll be solving pending issues.”

“I don't need anything from you,” he snapped, “but at least I know she'll be in a good mood the rest of the day. You aren’t bringing your little maid today.”

I raised an eyebrow and turned to him.

“What is that comment about?” I said as naturally as possible.

“When you guys left yesterday, she was in the mood for dogs!” he said as he uncorked a bottle of cheap alcohol, “She kept complaining about why you gave her a dress and took her out to dinner. It was all ‘Alastor considers her too much,’ 'Ali-Al should put her in her place,’ ‘When I marry Ali-poo, she’s going out on the streets.’ Then, she got drunk and fell asleep on my bar”

He took a drink from his bottle and wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“If you are going to marry Mimzy, I suggest that you get rid of your maid first. Those two are not going to work well together. And for sure, it will make life impossible for that girl.”

“Concerned about sweet Charlotte, Husk?” I said, trying to contain my laughter.

“No way!” he yelled, slamming the bottle on the counter, “I just don't want to hear Miss Mimzy complaining about it every day! When she's drunk, she doesn't stop talking, and she's fucking annoying! Especially when I have a hangover!”

I looked at him sideways and then turned around.

“With your permission, my friend,” I told him and retreated to the back, where Mimzy's office was located.

The door to Mimzy's office had a peephole at my waist. I beat rhythmically. I waited and the sound of running heels came to me. The door swung open.

“Al!” Mimzy said with a big smile, “I knew it was you!”

“Good afternoon, Mimzy,” I said with a bow, “It's a pleasure to see you.”

“Come in, please!” she said, stepping aside and allowing me to pass.

Mimzy's office was, in many ways, unconventional. It had huge windows with rose-patterned curtains that lit up the room. There was a hanger loaded with feather stoles and glitter fabrics. And a huge black chair that was full of piled clothes. Romantic movie posters and vinyl records were taped to the walls. There was a huge wine-colored rug, shaggy and dirty from use, and a plaster bust of a woman wearing a peacock feather top hat, with an elaborate gold mask and many necklaces from the Mardi Gras festival. Mimzy's desk was full of stacked papers, empty tea cups, and watered makeup. Right in front of her was a huge, old, worn red trunk. In it she kept all kinds of sexual devices that the employees occupied with their clients.

“What brings you here?” she said, running to remove the clothes from the big chair, to make room for us to sit down. “Aren't you wearing a mask? The Mardi Gras is starting soon!”

“I came to quickly discuss something: to coordinate the transfer of the piano,” I said without sitting down, “Preferably, I would like you to send it to me tomorrow. Charlotte can receive it at any time, without problem.”

Her face fell in disappointment.

“Of course. I can send it tomorrow,” she said in a thin voice, “Did you just come for that?”

“It was unfinished business, darling. Once settled, I can safely retire,” I said, grasping the door handle.

“Oh, Al, you've barely gotten off work. Stay awhile to have fun,” she said, lying on her stomach on the sofa and moving her legs.

“I like to be productive,” I said simply. I looked around again, “By the way... does Niffty have the day off?”

“Ugh! No. She has a new lover,” she said, annoyed, as she stood up, “I don't know how you can change lovers every two weeks... and without charging them! If it wasn't for her being so good at her job, I would have fired her long ago for these absences without warning. We’re without her here for one day and the cleanliness of this place is a disaster.”

“Her priorities in life are well established,” I said, flicking a speck of dust from my arm, “That must at least be recognized.”

Niffty's “days off” consisted of unscheduled absences for long sex sessions with her partners on duty. Young Niffty had an insane carnal appetite. Her partners ended up exhausted after a few days, and abandoned her due to the high demand for her. Apparently, her great energy and the inability to keep up with her meant an insult to one’s manhood. That didn't stop Niffty. After suffering a couple of days, she would look for another “game partner” and thus her cycle continued.

Mimzy approached me with her hands on her waist.

“I, however, am an old-fashioned woman in that regard. I am faithful to one man,” she said as she threw me a kiss in the air.

I looked at her in a sideways glance and bowed to her height.

“There are customs that are good to maintain, my dear Mimzy,” I said, winking at her.

She giggled, while blushing. Suddenly she looked at the clock hanging on the wall.

“How awful!” she exclaimed.

She rushed to grab one of the pink feather stoles from the coat rack, removed the mask from the wooden bust to put it on her face. She quickly looked at herself in the mirror and then ran to the door to open it.

“Come, Al! It's time for my act!” she yelled enthusiastically.

I followed her out of her office. She closed the door securely and asked me to go to the bar.

“I'm sure you are going to love my show! And put on the mask!” she said enthusiastically, running towards the backstage.

I rolled my eyes and went back to the bar. Husk was serving a mug of beer to Angel Dust. The boy had a laborious mask with glitter and purple feathers. He was looking annoyed and struggling to wipe a stain off his pink suit with a damp towel.

“Here you go,” the bartender growled at him.

“Thank you, sweetie!” Angel said flirtatiously.

“Go fuck yourself!” Husk snapped.

“Only if you watch me,” he said, taking him by the cheeks and having Husk push him away.

“Clean that up already! And don't go staining my bar!” he yelled at him, then drinking from his own bottle.

I approached with curiosity and it was then that I could see it well. Angel Dust had the unmistakable color of blood diluted in water on the fabric of his coat.

“Good afternoon sirs!” I said, resting my arm on the bar.

“Hello, party pooper,” Angel Dust said with an amused smile, “Did you change your mind about my proposal yesterday?”

“Never in life, my effeminate friend,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Meh. Alright, whatever,, I'm not presentable for a session right now anyway,” he said without interest, as he kept trying to get the blood out of his jacket.

Suddenly, Vaggie passed me with a bag of the same pink hue in her arms. She looked at me in surprise when she noticed my presence. She also wore a mask.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said, a little confused, “Unfinished business?”

“Greetings, my dear. I came to arrange the piano transfer in the office with Mimzy. We’ll wait for you tomorrow at my residence,” I told her.

“I see. I hope Charlotte takes advantage of it,” she said, as she looked around hopefully.

“She didn't come with me today.” I said, guessing that she was looking for her, “But I'm sure she will appreciate it very much. Do not hesitate,” and I widened my smile further.

He looked at me with reservations and then turned to Angel.

“Here you go, Angel,” said the girl, handing him the garment, “Give me your coat before the blood dries.”

“Ugh! And the worst part is that I was inspired!” he shouted dramatically as he removed the stained garment. "The guy was almost done, when suddenly... Whoosh! I cough up blood! It was completely gross!”

“A tragedy,” Vaggie said, rolling her eyes.

Angel threw the dirty jacket over her face and she took it off in annoyance.

“Angel, you have to avoid doing that when you have an act! You never know how long it can go on. And I'm totally sure you would have gone with him if this hadn't happened to you.”

“Fiiiine,” Angel said, exasperated as he put on the new jacket, “I will try to save it until the end of my last act of the day. But at least I could get something out of that shitty, sick man.” He showed a wallet that he had kept in his back pocket.

He took some bills out of the wallet and put them in the inner lining of his jacket. Then, he pulled out an ID and raised an eyebrow.

“So, the blood spit is called Michael Magne,” he said, and laughed, “It's a big name for that pathetic scum that leaves me with a good blowjob halfway done. I hope he’s dying in the bathroom.”

“Michael Magne? Was your client a Magne?” Vaggie said in amazement, “From the owners of the cotton farm?”

“AND?” Angel said with disinterest.

“Wait, don't you know the Magne family?” Vaggie said, taking the ID, “You've lived in this city longer than me.”

Angel shrugged.

“The soulless? Apple Daddy Magne's older brother?”

“Meh. I don't care for politics,” Angel said, crossing his arms.

Vaggie sighed in exasperation.

“Years ago, Michael Magne appeared in New Orleans,” Vaggie said gloomily, “It is said that he was the laggard brother, the lazy, the opportunist. His life was always a constant of endless vices. He was always envious of his brother's success and when he and his wife died, he took over the Magne cotton farm with a heavy hand. He abused his power by killing and raping women who worked on the plantations and threatened to leave them on the street if they said anything. He was suspected of making high payments to the police so that investigations for his crimes would not be completed. He kept his niece, the legitimate heir to the Magne estate, in almost complete isolation since she was orphaned. It is said that the day he escaped to France, he also left his niece here without looking back. We can’t risk getting involved with such a man.”

“You done?” Angel said, “He looked more like a dying man in an expensive suit. I hope what he had isn’t contagious,” he narrowed his eyes downward, panicking.

“Well, I don't trust him! And you shouldn't go giving him any 'services,' either!” Vaggie said, crossing her arms.

“Oh come on, do you trust any man? Some men? Men?" Angel said, intending to annoy her.

Vaggie just looked at him, irritated, and sat down on a stool.

“Now with Niffty with her ‘day off’ I’ll have to take care of this myself,” she said, taking the bloody jacket.

“You are well aware of the Magne caste, my dear,” I told her.

“My father worked for the Magne estate,” she said gloomily, “He told me why I should never go to that residence, because of all that man was doing. It was not safe for anyone.”

“May l?” I said reaching out to take the badge.

Vaggie gave it to me and I proceeded to examine the attached photograph in detail. Certainly, the resemblance to Apple Daddy and Charlotte was evident to some degree. Long light hair, sharper, and less warm eyes than Charlotte's. The only thing that completely looked alike was their rosy cheeks. His features were more square and he had long sideburns. He was good-looking enough to have done all the atrocities he was accused of, although I could attest that any facade is quite misleading.

“Good afternoon everyone!” we heard from the stage. It was Mimzy, who had gotten right in the center in front of the microphone, “I hope you are having a great time.”

There was a general cheering of the attendees. That seemed to give Mimzy more confidence and she continued. I put the badge in my pocket, unnoticed.

“Good! Let's cheer up a little more!” she snapped her fingers and the band started playing, “This is going to be from me for a special man, and he knows who he is.”

Another general ovation. Mimzy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started singing.

**I've got a man who's always late**

**Any time we have a date**

**But I love him**

**Yes, I love him**

She moved her hips and raised her arms with a stage gesture.

**I'm gonna walk up to his gate**

**See if I can get this thing straight**

**'Cause I want him**

**And I'm gonna have him**

**Say is you is, or is you ain't my baby**

**The way you're acting lately makes me doubt**

**Youse is still my baby, baby**

**It seems my flame in your heart's done gone out**

**A man is a creature**

**That has always been strange**

**Just when you're sure of one**

**You'll find he's gone and made a change**

**Now, is you is or is you ain't my baby**

**Maybe baby's found somebody new**

**Or is my baby still my baby true**

Suddenly, I heard someone coughing powerfully and rushing past the bar. It was a man in a black suit who seemed to be in a lot of trouble. Small drops of blood remained on the floor as he advanced. He was completely hunched over, but his long blonde hair on his back gave him away. I followed him with my eyes until I got close to the exit. He stopped to lean against a wall to catch his breath. I saw a diner come up to help him, but the man pushed him away and continued on his way to the exit.

Interesting. I stood up.

“It was a pleasure to spend time with you, but I must go,” I said.

They looked at each other, confused.

“Um... Won't you finish listening to the song first?” Angel said, leaning on the bar.

“Miss Mimzy is singing very hard today,” Vaggie said.

“I have other priorities, dear. With your permission,” I said, and left.

**Now, is you is or is you ain't my baby**

**Maybe baby's found somebody new**

**Or is my baby still my baby true**

**I guess my baby's found somebody new**

**And I'd better get right up and go out and find me somebody, too**

**I said I'm gonna find me somebody, too.**

I got to the exit and the trail of blood on the floor gave me a good idea of the direction I had to take. I quickened my pace, and even though it was already dark, I could recognize him in the distance amidst the people on the street who were on their way home.

Michael Magne continued with an erratic walk, and the sound of some isolated coughs reached my ear. In the middle of the road, I took off my glasses and put on the mask that had been delivered to me at the club. The thrill known from hunting and the chase came over me. I pressed my hand into my leather bag. The edge of my knife was screaming at me that it wanted to be used. My heart rate was increasing in anticipation, and I swallowed the excess saliva that collected in my mouth. He rushed into an alley and I quickened my pace.

Taking care that no one could see me, I went into the alley too. Michael Magne was in darkness, but I could see him standing up, looking me in the eye. He looked agitated from the walk, but his gaze was completely hostile.

“Hey, piece of shit, don't think I didn't notice you following me,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and released a bloody spit in front of him.

“I am sorry to inconvenience you, Mister Magne,” I said calmly.

He shifted uneasily, his mouth half open.

“How do you know who I am?” he growled “Who told you?!”

“My intention was simply to make sure I was meeting a celebrity.”

He smirked.

“I am not famous for reasons that everyone likes,” he said, “What do you want? Money?”

“Oh no, Mister Magne, I know you don't have a single penny,” I said simply.

He tried to distinguish me better in the dark of the alley.

“Do we know each other?” he said suspiciously.

“Perhaps,” I said with my hands behind my back.

Michael frowned and stood guard, but did not move.

“Catch him,” I whispered.

My shadow lifted off my feet and came to him. The guy froze immediately. His limbs were static in place. His eyes widened in surprise. I approached him calmly while looking at him in a little more detail. The photo of his identification must have been from several years ago, because the passage of time had not been kind to him. His graying, battered beard gave him more age than he should have. The huge purple bags under his eyes gave him a sickly air, and his pale skin had taken on a grayish hue. Although hunched over, he still had his stout figure. There were remnants of the blood from his mouth that he had been spitting shortly before.

This was definitely nothing more than the dispossession of the man he once was.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said, breathing hard, “Are you ‘The Vigilante’ that everyone is talking about? Are you planning to avenge someone I killed?”

“It seems to me that introductions are not appropriate in this situation,” I said calmly, and from my jacket I took out a large needle and fishing line, “If it doesn't bother you, I will sew your mouth to avoid you screaming. I don't like unnecessary attention when I'm working.”

I approached him, firmly intending to insert the needle into his skin.

“Liberi,” he muttered hoarsely, suddenly.

My shadow jerked uneasily at his feet and came back to me. Michael was able to move again and looked at me, defiant. My smile faltered a little, in surprise. He took me by the lapels of my suit and hit me against the wall. That was uncomfortable. I didn't see that coming. His eyes were wide and his gesture was maniacal disbelief.

“Awesome!” he said, and he spat as he spoke, “Someone else who uses black magic in New Orleans! And you use your shadow without spells! How many people have you killed to get to that, damn it?!”

I concentrated and ordered my shadow to emerge as tentacles on the floor to grab him by the back and throw him away from me. Once free, I retreated a few steps, still looking at him, as I straightened up.

“Liberi,” he said again. But this time, my shadow gave him more work than he expected. He was still holding on to both wrists and kneeling on the floor.

I wiped the dust off my suit with ease. He looked at me, while panting.

“Are you really planning to use that against me?” he said, amused and incredulous “I am a Magne. I have more right than you to use the black magic of the grimoire. ”

I laughed.

“We have the same right as any mortal. And as far as I know, you are not worthy of using the power of the grimoire in its entirety, are you?” I said maliciously.

That seemed to dislodge him.

“Umbra carcerem!” he said firmly.

Shadows from different directions came to me. They crawled around my body like frozen snakes, and began to wrap around me until I was paralyzed.

“Liberi,” I said, almost monotonously, before they reached my neck.

The shadows dispersed instantly and I felt the ability to move again.

“Impressive, Mister Magne. Although, they are rather weak spells, I must admit. Perhaps you can no longer make sacrifices as often and your power weakens? ”

He looked scared.

“It’s too bad you’re not the rightful heir. Maybe... killing Apple Daddy and his wife didn't go as expected?”

“Who the fuck are you?! How can you handle shadow spells?” demanded “How do you know about the Magne's grimoire?”

“I'm sorry to tell you that my lips are sealed, sir,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

He began to cough up blood again. He looked at me with difficulty.

“I don't like to play with my prey for a long time. So let's end this in the most civilized way,” I said "and if you don't want me to sew up your mouth, I have another method to make sure you don't scream."

I reached into my bag and took my favorite knife out of its sheath. I held it steady and lifted it up with the intention of driving it into his neck.

“Umbra timens,” he said with difficulty.

I felt it immediately. The complete terror. A huge shadow dog materialized just behind Michael Magne. I was immediately paralyzed. That enormous creature filled me with horrors that I thought I had buried. My demons were taking physical form. In my ears, I heard the clear growl of a canid, but they did not come from the dog in front of me. There was the clatter of metal. The distant growls and barks from the cage of my father's huge dog. That damn cage with that damn dog, in the shed. And those stormy screams that made Mom cry.

The hand holding my knife trembled. The next thing I felt were the huge paws of the dog on my chest and my head hitting the floor. He looked at me and seemed to growl, making no sound. His lifeless black eyes did not leave my own. It bared at me large, sharp teeth that threatened to reach my neck. Suddenly, I felt his cold claws digging into my shoulders, tearing my clothes until the flesh broke. Blood began to leak from the wounds, staining my clothes.

My hands were shaking and the panic had silenced me. I kept my lips tight, so as not to scream in fear like a small child. The dog was suffocating, and wouldn't budge to remove its claws from me.

But there was a second. A second that separated me from my inevitable death. The dog looked at my chest and sniffed it with interest. Then he looked at me, confused.

The dog hesitated. When hunting, there was no time for doubt. That single image of seeing that animal as a prey made me react instinctively.

I used all my strength and summoned my shadow to pierce the dog like stalactites. The shadow animal was skewered in midair, with thousands of black needles. His mouth was open, seeming to make wails that he couldn't hear. I withdrew my shadow and the dog fell to the ground, without moving, except for a few simple spasms.

I jumped up, grabbed my blade, and started stabbing it. It did not splash blood, but it did seem like he was suffering and that was all I wanted.

I felt out of myself. I wanted to dismember that damn dog. Every fiber of my being wanted to destroy it. Every stab I gave was liberating. My smile had widened to the point of cheek pain. I was ecstatic to destroy that horrendous figure made of nightmares. There was no other mission in the world more important than to end it.

One last stab in the animal's stomach, with both hands pressed into the knife's handle, was the last thing I needed.

He was panting, kneeling on the floor. I was ecstatic. I felt a triumphant euphoria when I saw the motionless dog in front of me. After a few moments, the creature vanished into thin air. Nothing was left, as if it had never existed. My knife gave way due to the lack of a body, until it hit the ground.

I was sweating cold. My breathing was shaky. I looked around, but there was no one there. Without realizing it, Michael Magne had freed himself from my spell and was gone.

I felt a powerful ringing in my ear. I began to lose clarity in vision.

I took a few steps back until I ran into the wall and slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I let my blood flow freely from my open wounds. I put a hand to my face and took off the mask. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself.

I felt completely blocked and out of place, as this had not happened to me for many years. I thought I saw a ghost. One that I had tried to bury for decades, that was now tormenting me again. I wasn't even sure if I felt the throbbing pain in my shoulders.

Who knows how many hours I was in the same position, staring into space. Regardless of cold or hunger. I sighed. I felt stirred to the core, but I couldn't stay there. I had to go home to tend to my wounds.

With what will I had left, I stood up. I put my glasses back on. I put my knife and my sewing kit from the floor in my bag, and staggered to the exit of the alley entrance. Only then could I see the crowd of people crowding two blocks from my position. I figured it was all just outside Mimzy's Palace. I could see police patrols in the vicinity. I couldn't care less.

I got on the tram, ignoring the worried murmurs of people who saw the blood on my shoulders. Almost like an automaton, I made my way home, not entirely sure how I felt. I couldn't feel the cold of the environment, nor the pain of my wounds.

I got to my home and opened the front door. The radio was on and a soft jazz tune was playing. Everything was in darkness, except for the fireplace that was with a pleasant fire. In the middle of the table next to my sofa, a vase with a bouquet of daffodils rested. And curled up in the two-bodied chair was Charlotte, hugging her legs, her forehead resting on her knees. She was in her nightgown and was wearing a pair of thick woolen socks. I raised my eyes to look at the time on the wall. It was 1:24 am.

I took off my bag and jacket and hung them on the coat rack. I sat on the couch and touched Charlotte's shoulder.

“Dear?” I said softly, “Shouldn't you be in bed at this time?”

She winced and immediately raised her head. Her eyes looked at me in surprise. I could tell she had been crying because of how swollen they were.

“Mr. Alastor?” she said in a timid voice.

Before I could avoid it, she pounced on me and hugged me. She was shaking, and started crying.

“What a joy! You’re okay!” she repeated over and over, burying her face in my chest, “You’re here!”

I assumed that after all that had happened that day, this was not so unpleasant. Whatever had happened, it took a good reason for her not to obey me. I let her vent a bit before asking for an explanation.

“Now, dearest, calm down,” I said, stroking her hair.

She whimpered a little more and then released me.

“I'm so sorry, sir,” she said with difficulty, drying her tears with her sleeve, “I know you don't like me to touch you, but I was really very distressed…”

“I'll let it go today,” I said simply.

She smiled weakly.

“And why did you care so much? Did you expect me to be dead, sweetheart?” I said jokingly.

“I didn't want to believe you were dead,” she said, looking into my eyes.

The conviction surprised me with what she had said.

“I was listening to the news in the evening, and they said they found a dead man in the bathroom of Mimzy's Palace today. The information gave no details, no names, and I knew you were going to the club today,” she started to whimper again, “and I waited for you for dinner, but you didn't come… and you are never late. So... I thought... I thought, maybe…”

A dead man in the club bathroom in the evening. Only then did I realize what Michael had been doing at the club. He had killed a person. Angel would have almost been his victim that afternoon, if he hadn't been interrupted. You could really call it an unfortunate mistake.

I looked at Charlotte again. I felt an unpleasant sensation when I saw her cry, very different from the pleasure generated by seeing the suffering of others, in general. Something shook in me. Something annoying that I had been desperately trying to drown. Something that had snuck in without permission and settled, only to keep growing. It had taken deeper and deeper roots as I tried to remove it. Something that I would continue denying with all my being.

Maybe it was because I felt genuinely drained, or because the day's fight had left my brain stunned, or maybe was it something that just emerged in the least indicated moment. But, seeing Charlotte crying made me act on instinct. I put a hand on the nape of her neck and brought her in closer to press my lips against her forehead.

I immediately felt her stop crying. In fact, I wasn't sure if she was still breathing. I pushed her head up to my chest and leaned my chin on her crown. I exhaled through the nose.

“It is awkward to see you cry, my dear,” I said, gently scratching the nape of my neck with my nails, “Please don't do it.”

She was still and silent. I could feel her relax as the minutes ticked by. I found myself feeling a little calmer as I stroked her hair.

After a few moments, finally, she raised her head and looked at me. Her cheeks were red and her gaze had a curious determination. She was going to tell me something, but the moment she noticed the blood on my shoulders, she completely forgot about that.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed in horror, “What happened?!”

“Oh, I had an altercation with a huge, gross dog this afternoon,” I said simply, “I told you they hated me.”

“So, is that why you were late?” she said, standing up, “The blood is very dry! How many hours have you been injured?”

“About six hours,” I said, without flinching.

She ran upstairs. A few moments later, she came down with the first-aid kit in hand at full speed. She stood in front of me and took a deep breath. Then, she looked at me with a flushed face, but spoke with authority.

“Please, Mister Alastor. Take off your shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was FUCKING HARD. Alastor is tremendously complex.  
> But I was happy with the results :D  
> The song links are going!
> 
> Memories of you https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26EVJzc0m8g
> 
> I'll do my best to make you happy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHsL1gK9S0s
> 
> Dinah Washington - Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B38IWIc4Gv8
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	10. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no deadline that is not met, nor truths that are not discovered.

We looked at each other for a few moments without saying anything. It seemed that he still didn’t process what I had ordered, and frankly, I also could not believe what I had said. I was ready to watch him stand up, offended, and flatly refuse, but he just sat there and cocked his head with a strange expression, a mixture of disbelief and interest. The only thing that broke the tense silence was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace and the soft jazz that was still broadcast on the radio.

Having no response, I had to repeat the order.

“I ask you to remove your shirt. It's to check your wounds sir,” I pointed out seriously, raising the kit, “Just for that.”

His eyes widened a little, his expression tense.

“I know. Why else would you ask me for something like that, dear?” he said, amused, raising an eyebrow.

Was he playing with me? I pressed my lips together and a knot formed in my stomach, but I was firmly convinced that he should accept my help.

“I will review your wounds,” I said, unfazed.

“I can heal them myself,” he said, standing up.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't ready to give up and I stood in front of him, to prevent him from leaving.

“Sir, please cooperate this time,” I insisted.

He looked at me closely.

“I know that you don’t like to be touched, but my duty also applies in taking care of your physical well-being,” I said firmly, “Your wounds are on your shoulders sir. If you need stitches, you won't be able to make them alone. So please, take off your shirt.”

He looked at me mischievously and leaned up to my face.

“Oh? And what if I don't?” he said, showing a wide smile.

I frowned.

“I'll add sugar to your coffee when you least expect it,” I said, trying to appear threatening.

He laughed heartily. Immediately, the air stopped being dense, and I felt I could breathe easier. He took a few steps back and sat down on the sofa again.

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, “I don't want to run into a sweet ambush in my coffee.”

I sighed in relief and positioned myself next to him on the couch.

“Good,” I said, smiling.

I saw him undo the buttons on his shirt with nimble fingers. I started to see the bare skin at the base of his neck. I couldn't help looking away. I felt tremendously nervous. I've never seen him shirtless before.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up.

I quickly made my way to the kitchen to fill a bowl with water and pull a clean piece of cloth from the cupboard. I went to the laundry room to get one of the clean, ironed shirts I had already prepared. Before going to the living room, I took several deep breaths to calm myself down.

I had to mentally scold myself and remind myself why he was taking off his shirt in front of me. He had been attacked. His injuries were the priority now. I couldn't ramble on.

Also, it was quite silly to get nervous about something so simple, considering that I would barely see his torso, and no other part of his body would be in sight. And, I remembered, he himself had already seen me completely naked when we had just barely met. That last thought disturbed me even more.

Returning to where Mister Alastor was, I was paralyzed with surprise at what I saw. His lean, well-defined body was completely scarred. From his forearms, to his shoulders, from his neck to the base of his back, from his pectorals to his belly. Everything was with at least one scar.

He was hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs. He was looking at the fire with a tired look, but still smiling.

I sat next to him and soaked the cloth that I had brought in the bowl of water. I looked at Mister Alastor with uncertainty.

“Please, sir…” I said.

In response, he straightened up and turned to face me. I took it as permission from him. I carefully wiped the dried blood from the skin, being very careful not to touch his wounds. It took a couple of trips to the kitchen for new water, until I was satisfied with the cleaning. Then, I looked at the cuts. Most were shallower than I expected, but two were large enough to need stitches.

My eyes strayed to his torso, specifically to his scars. It seemed like they had been closed for many years. They glowed in the firelight. I took courage and spoke.

“Mister Alastor...” I began shyly, without looking at him.

“Yes, dear?”

“May I ask about the origin of your scars?” I said nervously, as I put the bowl of water on the side of the sofa.

“No.” He said.

Just as suspected. Another question that he did not want to answer. And according to the rules, I shouldn’t insist. I looked at him and he was still smiling. Apparently, he hadn't been offended by my daring question.

I took gauze from the medicine cabinet and a small bottle of iodine. I gave small taps to each of his bruises, to disinfect the area.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Not as much as the moment when I was hurt,” he said

“The wounds that are not seen are the deepest,” I said with a bit of sadness in my voice.

“Shakespeare?” he said, smiling.

“Yes.”

“I must replenish the library with less pathetic literature,” he said, closing his eyes.

I chuckled.

I bandaged the minor wounds with adhesive gauze, and they were done in no time. It was time for the stitches. I pursed my lips and looked up to see him. He was watching me closely, as if he were amused by my concentrated face.

“What happened?” I said curiously.

“Your dedication is fascinating, darling,” he said, and gave a slight laugh.

I huffed in annoyance.

“I do what I can so that it doesn't hurt, so I pay close attention, sir,” I said, going back to the first aid kit. I pulled out a thread and needle, “You do know you will have to have a couple of stitches, right?”

“I didn’t expect any less,” he simply said.

Biting my lower lip, I approached both open wounds. I concentrated on making it as neat as possible.

“It's funny that you're here healing my wounds, when two years ago I was healing the wounds of one very scared Charlotte,” he said, intending to annoy me.

I couldn't help but give him a wry smile.

“I guess the roles are reversed if we're not careful,” I said, shrugging.

He chuckled softly.

When I cut the thread from the last stitch, I sighed in relief. I went over and checked my work. I was satisfied with the result. I turned to tell him I was ready, only to come face to face with Mister Alastor. My heart skipped a beat. It was then I noticed how close I had been to him all this time. I had been so focused that I hadn't noticed how his heat was confused with mine, due to the proximity of our bodies. My hands rested on his bare chest, leaving his scars to the touch of my fingers. The intense aroma of coffee and blood mixed with his natural essence intoxicated me.

And there he was, looking at me with amusement, one eyebrow raised and with no intention of pulling away. Scrutinizing my gestures, running his eyes down my flushed cheeks, my half-open mouth, and my longing eyes for something I didn't know how to put into words. I could see myself in the reflection of his glasses. He didn’t move an inch. Up close, he was even more handsome. He was still watching me, as if expecting a reaction from me. And I did the same. Waiting for him to make a move.

Then, I felt a strange tension in the environment. Something strong. A primitive attraction. An unknown heat that accumulated under my belly. A strange shudder that made my skin and nipples stand on end. Something that kept me from leaving.

Maybe it was because of the burning fireplace, or because our eye contact was not interrupted, or the melody that was playing on the radio that made the environment somewhat different from any previous situation. 

_**Call me darlin', call me sweetheart, call me dear** _

_**Thrill me, darlin', with words I want to hear** _

_**In your dark eyes so smilin' a promise I see** _

_**But your two lips won't say you care for me** _

_**Oh, my darlin', if my daydreams would come true** _

_**You would meet me at a secret rendezvous** _

_**And I'd find the paradise that lies deep in your eyes** _

_**Call me darlin', call me sweetheart, call me dear** _

I wanted to record that instant in my memory forever. A mental picture that would accompany me every night before I went to sleep. A secret that I would only share with my body. I felt guilty for the sinful connotation of my desire to want to touch him more. From stroking his hair curled up in bed. To fill him with kisses so that he had no doubts about my intense love for him.

In that moment, I remembered why I had been about to tell him how much I adored him just a few minutes ago.

“Is there something else you need to do?” he said softly.

I winced. I blinked several times, waking up from my reverie, and pulled away from him, slowly. I put the thread and needle into the kit and pulled out more adhesive gauze to finish sealing the stitches. I looked at him, and then I smiled in the most natural way I could.

“No, I think that will be enough,” I said, walking a distance, “I was just being careful not to make sudden movements, so the stitches wouldn't open, alright?”

“I appreciate your attention, dear,” he said.

I looked at the clock again. It was already 2 in the morning.

“We will sleep very little tonight,” I said, smiling, with a sigh of resignation, “Do you want to eat something? Your dinner is still in the pot. I prepared gumbo.”

“Something in my stomach wouldn't hurt,” he said, as he took his shirt with holes and stains and unfolded it.

He laughed.

“At this rate, I will run out of clothes,” he said cheerfully, “I'll have to go see Rosie soon.”

I handed him the clean shirt.

“Thank you dear,” he said as he carefully put it on.

“Too bad you had such an unfortunate encounter with a dog, sir,” I said, examining the torn and tattered shirt, “And it looks like it was a pretty big one. How did you manage to escape?”

In response, he reached into a pocket of the garment and took two handkerchiefs from it.

“Let's say I had a good luck charm,” he said simply, “He seemed very interested in sniffing this out and his distraction allowed me to escape. His owner escaped with him.”

He stood up and went to the kitchen. I followed, shocked.

“The dog that attacked you had an owner?!” I exclaimed with my hands on my cheeks.

“And a very rude one, really,” he said as he turned on the stove to heat the gumbo pot, “He just threw it at me. Without provocation. When I escaped, I stayed hidden until I was sure they wouldn't find me. That's why it took me a while to get home.”

He sat down in one of the chairs.

“And it attacked you by an order?” I said in a shocked voice.

“I think I want to drink some coffee,” he said, taking off his glasses and massaging his eyes.

I hurriedly put water in the kettle and put the silverware on the table.

“I can't understand why they wanted to attack you, sir,” I said, worriedly, “That man must be a criminal. To attack an innocent man like that…”

“He must have his reasons,” he said, trying to change the topic, “Speaking of something more joyous; Tomorrow you will receive the piano. It is already coordinated. Isn't that fantastic?”

“Oh. Yes... Tomorrow?” I said, still shocked, “I'll take care of it.”

I went to the pot to stir the gumbo.

Mister Alastor didn’t seem in the mood to argue about the attack. So I preferred not to insist.

I served him his portion and gave him his coffee without sugar. I poured one for myself, to accompany him. I was tired. I told him that in all the time I was waiting for him, I had advanced all the work for the next day. The clothes were ironed, the house was swept twice, there was not a speck of dust on the decorations, I obsessively arranged the vase with daffodils that I had collected, I had even taken a hot bath, which didn’t manage to calm me down, but did remove the cold.

“Are you still cold?” he said.

I looked up at him.

“Ah? Yes. It took me a lot to get the heat back,” I said, half sleepy, “I woke up colder than yesterday. And I tried to look for a heat leak in the house, but I didn't find anything.”

I yawned.

“I think you should go to sleep,” Mister Alastor said, “I will stay working in my workshop. I must start preparing the deer that I hunted. By tomorrow it will be unusable if I wait more.”

“Aren't you going to sleep?” I said, confused.

“I'm not sleepy.”

He stood up with the intention of retreating.

“Are you sure you will be alright?” I said with concern.

He laughed.

“You care too much about me, my dear,” he said, narrowing his eyes and smiling sarcastically, “You shouldn't be so careful with me. I can be more dangerous than I seem.”

He waved his fingers in the air, pretending to be a monster.

I smiled at him. I picked up the dirty plate and the cups and took them to the sink.

“I really can't imagine you as something that could be considered dangerous, sir,” I said as I started to clean the dishes, “Maybe for the deer, but not for me.”

He laughed openly. He came up behind me and squeezed my cheeks playfully.

“Oh, I'm sure there are some things about me that could make you change your mind, dear,” he said, “I think I can still surprise you.”

I chuckled and looked him in the eye with a smile.

“Nothing you do or say would make me stop wanting to be by your side, Mister Alastor,” I said assuredly.

There was a silence between the two of us. What I said seemed to catch him off guard. He could not hide from me the discomfort in his gaze and how his smile gave way slightly. Perhaps my fidelity statement had surprised him to the point of not knowing how to react. I started to think he was upset, when he didn't answer me right away.

“Well, it has been an exhausting and emotional day!” he suddenly exclaimed.

I was surprised by his change in attitude.

“That deer is not going to do itself! Although if it did, it would be completely terrifying!” he said, and laughed out loud.

I couldn't help but smile at him.

“I know it will be a magnificent job,” I said.

“Oh, I don't doubt that it will look wonderful. By the way…”

He turned and looked at me with a wide smile.

“Try to not wander around tonight, my dear. I'm going to be busy.”

“What do you mean by ‘wander?’” I said, confused.

But he just turned around.

“Rest well,” he said.

And he headed toward the basement.

I was left with the strange feeling of an interrupted conversation. I finished cleaning everything and went to bed. I snuggled in Mister Alastor's jacket and sighed heavily. I felt happy and exhausted. I couldn't stop thinking about Mister Alastor and the tender kiss he had given me on the forehead. I could think of it as a true kiss. His lips were pressed against my skin. I stifled a squeal. I felt excited like a little girl.

I adored him. I loved everything about him. His smile, his intelligence, his love for music and how considerate he was with me. Being wildly optimistic, I could think that he would reciprocate my feelings. I'd been about to tell him how he made me feel and throw myself into the unknown on Vaggie's advice, guided by the environment generated while I was taking care of his wounds.

But I didn't dare. I felt like I would have taken advantage of the moment. He was quite tired, hungry, and very vulnerable. Saying something like that to him in a moment of weakness would only make him uncomfortable. I didn't want to take a chance on his discomfort to score points.

But I was happy. He had allowed me to touch him, and the magnetism that I had felt was so palpable that my inappropriate thoughts made me blush. It had been such a strange opportunity, that remembering the warmth of the touch of his skin made me shiver. I hoped I could touch him again. Not just once. But many times. I felt my fingers had become restless and hungry for his bare skin.

I closed my eyes and succumbed to Morpheus.

I had a terrible dream. One too real. One that filled me with anguish, that I couldn’t tell whether it was a memory or a fantasy.

I was little. I was in Magne Mansion in Dad's trophy room. I saw the big stuffed animals and some of their heads on the walls, which Dad liked to collect and bring from his travels. I had my favorite rag doll in my hands. A completely black doll shaped like a little devil, horns with white stripes, a pink bow tie and button eyes. Her name was Little Devil. And it had been my favorite doll for years.

Suddenly someone took Little Devil from my hands. The familiar figure of a woman rose before me, leaving my doll out of my reach.

“You shouldn't keep playing with dolls at your age, Charlotte!” she said to me.

“Give it back to me, Aunt Magda!” I said jumping, to reach it.

“How can you play with something as ungodly and pagan as this?” she said, disgusted.

“Dad gave it to me!” I replied.

“You shouldn't be surprised, Magda.” I heard the unmistakable voice of my uncle Michael, “Things like her play with filthy things like this.”

Since I could remember, he always spoke to me with disgust. As if I were the most repulsive being he knew.

“I'm not a ‘thing’!” I was yelling at him for the hundredth time. “

"My name is Charlotte!”

“Charlotte died a long time ago!” he yelled.

I cried. I wanted mom or dad to come. My uncle and aunt scared me. Uncle Michael and Aunt Magda always treated me badly when they saw me alone. I didn't know what I had done to make them always talk to me like that, as if I was cursed.

“Things like these should stay in hell, where they belong,” he said angrily.

Uncle Michael then took Little Devil and threw her into the burning fireplace.

“NO!” I screamed.

I was horrified. I started crying even louder. I threw myself to the ground. My eyes burned and I screamed. A powerful scream. It felt like a big bang. Window panes burst. The animal heads fell to the ground, falling apart. All of dad's figures were smashed.

Everything went black and the dream changed.

I was back in that dirty, gangly, and cold shack with those three men who tried to rape me two years ago.

I could feel the bumps on my back as if it were that day. Their shaky breaths as they gathered momentum for the next hit. I had been asked to take off my clothes and I was facing the wall, while my back and legs were whipped with rods and a whip.

I wanted to die. The pain was too strong. I clenched my teeth as I cried in despair. Each blow made me bleed more and more.

I was terrified. Everything hurt. I felt the drops of blood run down my back.

Suddenly the blows stopped.

Was it all over already?

“Come here, bitch,” one of the men said.

He tugged at my hair and forced me to turn around, getting down on my knees in front of them.

I saw them start to take off their overalls. I went into total panic.

No. Not that. NOT THAT!

I was desperate. No one was going to help me. No one would save me from desecration and captivity. I was at the mercy of those subjects, until my imminent death.

The revulsion generated by those men led me to do the only thing I could do:

I screamed.

It was just one scream. Visceral. Powerful. That burned my eyes and throat. An unnatural one. Like the cry of a beast and was born from the depths of my soul. That scream wobbled them to their backs and they covered their ears. It was then that, without looking for a logical explanation for what had just happened, I rushed against the door and escaped. Naked in the middle of the snow, I ran with all my might. I did not want to die that way. I did not mind feeling the cold that penetrated like needles into my bare feet. I just needed to run away where someone could help me.

Someone.

Anybody.

And then… I saw him.

In the distance and in hunting clothes. Standing in the middle of the snow with his unmistakable smile and a rifle on his back.

He was my beloved Mister Alastor.

I ran to him.

I woke up to the familiar sound of the alarm clock. I was sweating and I could feel my heart beating in my ears. I sat on the bed with the nightgown plastered to my body by the humidity. I tried to regulate my breathing as I regained my composure. I was still very confused.

What a dream I had. I touched my face and felt how I had dry tears on my cheeks. I still felt the sting in my eyes. I stood up and washed my face in the bowl of water on the table. I got dressed and went down to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee reached my nose and the kitchen light was already on. Mr. Alastor was already there, with a steaming mug in his hands. He turned to me in good spirits.

“Good morning, darli ...!” he said. But he was interrupted.

He looked at me stunned, without losing his smile. I was immediately nervous.

“Do I have something on my face?” I said touching my cheeks.

He quickly approached me and took me by the shoulders. He looked at me closely. He was so close that I was sure I had blushed. After a few seconds without moving and with the look fixed on my eyes; he cocked his head and took a distance from me. He put a hand on his chin and began to think.

“Is something wrong, sir?” I said, nervous.

He took off his glasses and wiped the glass with the handkerchief that I had given him.

“Nothing, sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, “I just think it's about time to change glasses.”

He sat back in his chair to continue his breakfast, as if nothing had happened. I frowned but preferred not to question anything. Perhaps Mister Alastor's lack of sleep had made him imagine that there was something strange about my face.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat next to him. My body felt sore and exhausted. But I forced myself to stay awake.

“How are your wounds?” I said.

“Wonderful, doctor,” he said with a wide smile, “I can guarantee that I will soon be like new.”

I laughed.

“I'm glad to know that I could be useful,” I said, “Did you work all night sir?”

“Undoubtedly. Finally, I decided to just put the deer's head on the wall. The body meat must be dried and stored. I left it cut into strips on a tray in the oven. Can I count on you?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course!” I said, smiling, “I'll take care of that.”

I yawned, and he started to laugh.

“The three hours of sleep were not enough?” he said, amused.

“Apparently not,” I said with a half-smile while rubbing one eye.

“The house is impeccably clean. You should have slept a little more, dear.”

“That's fine, sir,” I said as I put sugar in my cup “If I kept sleeping there would be more nightmares to face.”

“Oh, the ills of a restless mind,” he said calmly, “A bad memory, or just a projection of some buried fear?”

I looked at my cup of coffee a moment before answering.

“I really don't know if it's a memory. Everything is quite confusing,” I said, trying to remember, “One of the nightmares was about my childhood. Where Uncle Michael burned my favorite doll, and when I started crying… all of Dad's animal trophies fell.”

Mister Alastor looked at me with interest.

“I know it's crazy. And I had even forgotten that incident,” I said nervously, “But Dad had told me that an earthquake just happened at that time. And that it was impossible that all his animals fell because of me.”

“What an interesting coincidence,” he said, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“And then the dream changed, to when I was hit by those three men,” I said thoughtfully, “The truth is, something similar happened that time... As they took off their coveralls, I screamed. And that scream seemed to stun them enough to escape...”

I looked down. Strangely, I felt guilty.

“I forgot to tell you that when we met, Mister Alastor,” I said sadly, “I know it is something difficult to believe. And it's a confusing memory. So, I can't trust that either...”

He drank from his coffee and then looked at me.

“I doubt that you wanted to share all the details of your trauma as soon as you got into my home. So, it doesn't offend me at all,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, it was just dreams,” I said, trying to downplay the matter, “Nothing but crazy fantasies that my mind makes up...”

“It wouldn't hurt to pay a little attention to what our minds want to show us in dreams,” he said, “Not sleeping is not an option that can always be taken to avoid nightmares.”

I wondered if the reason he hadn't gone to sleep that night had been precisely because of the fear of having to face nightmares of bad memories. I wished so much to ask him about it. But I followed the rules: don't ask too much.

After a quiet breakfast, I finished before him and made him a hearty sandwich with strips of the stored dried meat, goat cheese, tomato and lettuce. He had to eat very well to heal properly.

With Mister Alastor's second jacket destroyed, he could only go with a simple vest to work and indicated that he would be late because he would go to Rosie's store to buy a new coat.

That morning was especially slow. All the house cleaning was ready from the day before, and I only had to take care of feeding the animals and finish taking care of the meat that was drying in the oven. It was only when the piano arrived around 12:15 pm that I felt excited. Carriers unloaded it and arranged the piano in the room, and then left. Not without first complaining about the remoteness of the place.

It was wonderful to see the piano there. So majestic and waiting to be touched. I went straight to get the disinfectant and a rag. Then, I put my hands to work.

I cleaned it up hard. Strolling through all the nooks and crannies, ensuring that any remnants of Angel or his clients that were left in it disappeared. It was better to not think how much use outside of strictly musical it had been given.

It took me longer than expected, but at last it was absolutely clean. I sighed with satisfaction and went to wash my hands.

After taking out the dried meat and making myself a quick lunch, I spent the rest of the afternoon playing the piano. I felt free and full. I could play the music I wanted in my spare time. I had to thank Mister Alastor again.

I had a hard time getting away from the piano, but I had to respect the dinner schedule and it was time to cook. I took special care in the venison stew I made, using some cuts that were not dried. The dish I made was spectacular, if I could say so myself. I took off my apron and proceeded to set the table.

It was then that I heard it. Someone was calling me. But it couldn't be.

I tried to focus on the dishes again, but I heard the call again. This time, a little stronger. It seemed like a whisper in the wind.

Mister Alastor's voice called me insistently.

“Charlotte... Come, please... Charlotte...”

It couldn't be. Mister Alastor had gone to work that same morning. But that voice was his, without a doubt.

I left the kitchen and started looking around the house, trying to find the origin of the voice.

“Mr.Alastor?” I said shyly into the air. But there was no reply.

“Charlotte... Come, please... Charlotte...”

My steps led me to the cellar door and I cautiously opened it.

“Hello?” I said. But there was no answer.

I felt a push fueled by curiosity. I went down the stairs and only saw the empty taxidermy workshop. The deer head that Mr. Alastor had been preparing was already skinned and the mold that would fill it was on the table.

“Charlotte...”

I winced and turned around. The voice was clearer and undoubtedly came from there: from Mister Alastor's forbidden room. I knew I shouldn't be there. I knew that I was breaking one of the main rules, but my curiosity to know where that voice came from was surpassing me. My head was clouded by that siren song. I put my hand on the handle.

“Mister Alastor?” I said in a broken voice, “May I come in?”

“Charlotte...”

It was then that I opened the door.

But he was not there.

The room was small. An oddly lit fireplace in the background allowed me to see in detail everything in the room. That fireplace was strange, its fire didn’t expel heat, despite being such a small space. The walls were crowded with shelves filled with jars. I stared in horror, seeing that there were eyeballs, animal fetuses, teeth, canned nails and herbs, lots of kinds of herbs. There were oddly shaped dolls hanging from the ceiling in bunches. All sewn from what appeared to be skin, and covered in needles. All over the floor and walls were strange symbols painted. They were nothing like any letter in the alphabet or a hieroglyph from my dad's library books. And right in front of the fireplace, a huge and intricate circle was painted on the floor with what looked to be dried blood. But most striking was a desk with a chair in the center of the room. There was a black folder, with lots of handwritten notes on it. I surveyed them closely. They were from the handwriting of Mr. Alastor. Inside the black folder were loose, yellowed and heavily worn pages, once belonging to some ancient Latin book that I was unaware of. And at one end of the desk, there was a little doll wrapped in blonde hair, resting on a mound of salt.

I couldn't help but feel like I was invading a place where I wasn't welcome. I was about to run away when I heard Mister Alastor's voice again. But this time it started to distort into several voices.

“Charlotte... Charlotte…”

I turned around and looked for the source. It didn't seem like anyone but me was there.

I walked over to the table and looked at the pages. The pages whispered my name.

This was crazy! How come I was hearing voices from a sheet of paper?

I took my eyes off the pages and scolded myself for having imagined such absurd things, and also for breaking the biggest rule in the house.

But then, I looked at the doll.

So small. So helpless.

“She shouldn't be alone in such a place.” I thought.

Should I...?

I knew I didn't have to. I knew I shouldn't do it. But I did it. I took it and pulled it out of the mound of salt.

Immediately the fire changed color to green flames and grew inside the fireplace. The circle on the floor lit up and huge shadows came out of it, and they began to hover around the walls shouting my name.

“CHARLOTTE. CHARLOTTE. CHARLOTTE!”

I was paralyzed with fear. Those ghosts kept calling me. I covered my ears and wanted to run away from the room, but something grabbed my leg and I fell flat on the floor. The doll flew out of my grasp. That strange force began to drag me into the bright circle. I saw, with horror, that a hole in the center of the circle was forming and sucking the air out of the room in a gale.

“CHARLOTTE. VIRGIN SOUL. COME WITH US!”

I yelled desperately. The temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. I had nothing to hold on to and scratched the ground trying to get over it. But I couldn't. That hole was going to absorb me.

“PLEASE! HELP ME! MISTER ALASTOR!” I screamed with all my might.

Suddenly, I felt something pulling my arm forward and fighting the wraiths that grabbed my foot. But nobody was there helping me. I could only see a long shadow projected from the door. To my surprise, the shadow had huge antlers and red eyes like radio targets. It was pulling me hard, but it was losing the tug-of-war game against the ghostly abyss.

The portal began to absorb me again and I was crying in despair.

I was going to die. Or perhaps something worse than death awaited me at the hands of the wraiths. I didn't want to say goodbye to this life. I didn't want things to end like this. If I died, I would never see him again. I still had to tell him how much I loved him!

Then, as if he was an apparition, he arrived.

Mister Alastor ran into the room. He came urgently next to me and in a quick movement, he took salt from a bag and drew a circle with it around us. I immediately stopped feeling the tug on my foot, and clung desperately to Mister Alastor. He held me tight with one arm against his chest.

Around us the ghosts were still hanging around, restless and annoyed.

“GIVE HER TO US. ALASTOR. SHE NO LONGER HAS YOUR PROTECTION GIVE HER TO US!”

“I think there was a misunderstanding, gentlemen,” he said, bowing his head and without losing his smile, “I know she is a rare delicacy, but I cannot allow you to come near her. You have my word that I will continue to compensate you all.”

I looked at him, stunned. His unflappable smile was there, but in his gaze, I could see the nervousness. The grip on my shoulder tightened. The spectres did not respond, and Mister Alastor decided to continue speaking.

“Gentlemen, I have not stopped fulfilling your conditions, so I do not understand why you have tried to take this lady's life on your own. Criminal souls in exchange for hers. That was our deal and I´m a man of my word.”

The shadows fluttered uneasily again, between howls and furious whispers in dead tongues.

“WE NO LONGER WANT TO WAIT!”

Mister Alastor approached my ear and said, in a pressing voice.

“Darling, you better tell them to go away.”

“What...?”

The wind grew stronger. I wrapped myself in Mister Alastor's chest, but knowing that I could do something, I would at least try.

I turned and scrambled to my feet. The gale was ruffling my hair brutally.

“G-go away,” I said in a stutter.

There was no answer.

“I said go away!” I demanded a little louder.

The wind blew steadily, and black souls continued to circle around us, without stopping.

I felt, then, a strange burning that invaded me from the chest, until it reached my throat and my eyes. A powerful need to put them in their place.

“DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?! GET OUT OF HERE!” I screamed in a voice I didn't recognize as mine. It was authoritative and powerful.

The power of my scream shook the room and many of the souls returned to the portal, disturbed and scared. The last souls left, only giving one last round to give a threat.

“ALASTOR, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO PROTECT HER FOREVER. WE WILL KEEP OUR DEAL UNTIL YOU CANNOT FULFILL IT AND SHE WILL COME WITH US.”

Then, in a sudden movement, all the remaining shadows returned to the hole in the ground amid wailing. That hole was closed, and the wind stopped instantly. The green fire abruptly disappeared, leaving behind only a few reddish embers, which would soon be consumed.

I fell to my knees on the ground. My legs were shaking. Mr. Alastor took a few seconds before standing up.

He stepped out of the circle, picked up the papers lying on the floor, and arranged them on his desk.

He was still standing with his back to me and I couldn't see his expression.

“You shouldn't be here,” Mister Alastor whispered.

I thought I heard him sigh in relief. He took out a little more salt from his bag and made another mound on the table. He picked up the doll from the ground and put it back in the center of the new circle.

He leaned on the table with his head down.

“I told you you shouldn't go into this room, darling,” he repeated, turning and looking at me with his unflappable smile.

I was still on the ground, hyperventilating. Despite the calm in his voice, I felt a note of annoyance in his words. I felt trapped like a mouse in front of him.

Who was this man? Why did the wraiths obey my word? What was happening?

He turned and walked over to offer me his hand, but I dragged myself away from him in panic. The tears kept running down my cheeks.

“Oh dear, why do I see fear in your eyes?” he said with a resigned smile.

He leaned toward me to touch my face, but I jerked his hand away. I was shaking with fear.

“A-Are y-you a witcher?” I said trembling, “Do you speak to the wraiths? Did you...?” I lacked saliva to continue.

He straightened up and looked at me haughtily from his position. His smile did not waver a bit.

“D-do you offer human sa-sacrifices?” I was finally able to ask almost in a whisper.

“Does it seem necessary to ask, darling?” he said with elegance and calm.

Without waiting for my answer, he went to the fireplace, put on a couple of logs and snapped his fingers, in an elegant gesture. A great fire instantly appeared to light the fireplace.

“That's better,” he said.

His shadow lengthened on the floor unnaturally and slid down the wall as if it had a life of its own. It stood there with sparkling eyes and a ghoulish smile with long, sharp teeth. This time there were no large antlers like the ones I had seen before. I covered my mouth to suppress a scream of horror.

Mister Alastor turned to look at me. He was standing with his hands behind his back. Everything in him gave off a presence of calm superiority, like someone who has the security of having everything under control.

Then it all clicked into my head. Serial murders. His prolonged absences. Everything that had happened in the ritual room. The doll tied with blonde hair.

“Are you really the killer that the police have been looking for?” I asked him with what little strength I had left, “Are you ‘The Vigilante?’”

He smiled grimly and did not deny it.

“And have you been using their... their...?”

“Their putrid bodies in occult rituals?” he said, raising his shoulders, without losing his calm, “It is evident that it is so, my dear. Believe me that without a little help from beyond I couldn't be who I am now.”

He gave his shadow a knowing look. His shadow widened the macabre smile.

“Being able to control shadows is very useful to prevent a person from escaping,” he said fluently, “Catching the victim's shadow leaves them motionless on the floor while I can calmly do my job. But just because they can't run doesn't mean they can't scream. So, I dedicate myself to sewing their mouths to prevent them from attracting attention.”

He went to one of the shelves and picked up dolls sewed with skin. Now I had no doubt that the teeth, eyes, and nails in the jars were from his victims.

“The rituals with deer eyes and hearts, despite being the noblest animal in these lands, don’t have enough magical qualities,” he said as he examined the doll, “I had been experimenting for years with various types of animals, and using deer, I got remotely decent results.”

He put the doll back in its place and looked at me smiling.

“But of course, that was until I met you, dear Charlotte,” he said, “The day we met; I had the opportunity to kill three men with a valid excuse.”

He looked at me and winked.

“During the night, I left the house and removed the eyes, teeth and hearts of their corpses. Then, I just had to throw what was left of their bodies into the frozen river. Consequently, the beings from beyond were delighted with the new offering and gave me the power to control my shadow at will, without the need for any spell. He became one more ally in all of this.”

The shadow hovered uneasily in the room and slid across the floor until it touched mine. I immediately felt like my feet couldn't get off the floor and my arms froze in place. His shadow had caught mine and I was paralyzed. I started to panic when he approached me with a haughty look. My eyes kept staring at him in terror.

“And things were relatively quiet for a while, but they began to request human sacrifices more and more frequently. And obviously I would have no problem giving them what they wanted knowing the rewards I can get! And with so many people to choose from!” And he spread his arms dramatically.

I was still unable to move. Mister Alastor's shadow looked at me with its bright eyes at my feet.

“Criminals everywhere!” he exclaimed with glee, “Completely expendable monsters die, decent people feel safer, and I become more powerful! Everyone wins!”

He took a deep breath and sighed with satisfaction.

“But unfortunately, a small inconvenience arose... They focused on you.”

My skin stood on end as he reached down and stroked my face with his hand. His face was too close to mine. He kept smiling, but I could swear his eyes were tinged with sadness.

“A maiden with a virgin soul that haunts the house. They are drooling every time they feel your soul in this place,” he whispered, “And I'll be honest with you, dear Charlotte. At first, I kept you close in case there were more men after you, to have a chance to kill them too, but nobody else came in the following weeks.”

He walked up to my ear and whispered to me.

“So, sacrificing you in exchange for more magic power was much more profitable.”

My mind froze. I opened my eyes in horror. Would he have...? Would he really have murdered me for more power? My head was spinning.

He sighed and straightened up.

“I asked you not to come to this place so that you would do exactly that: come and condemn yourself. At least that way I wouldn't have to be the one to kill you,” he said, almost without importance, “But I was surprised by your great fidelity. You listened to me and you never came to snoop. And now that you did, it's too late.”

He sighed and shook his head in resignation.

“Th-they used your voice, s-sir...” I could barely say. I felt that I had to justify my fault.

“Oh, a very old trick. You should be ashamed for falling for it.”

He looked at me, like studying me.

“You should no longer fear that I will try to kill you, my dear. Because I already value you enough than to give yourself to them,” he said, “I really enjoy your company. It would be a huge disgrace to lose you now.”

At another time, the day before, even just an hour before, those words would have been my greatest happiness. Knowing that he cared, knowing that he thought of me more than I ever imagined, knowing that he enjoyed living with me. I would have been euphoric, ecstatic, would have accepted what he could give me, and I would have given myself, body and soul. But now, all of that was tainted by the revelation of who my beloved Mister Alastor really was.

“You should be flattered. Only my mother has worked her way up to my heart. Or maybe my rifle has, too.”

He laughed out loud. It seemed like he wanted to take the weight off what he had said. Then, he looked at the ritual circle with a weaker smile.

“You never came in all this time and they were obviously not satisfied. At first, I told them it was a matter of time. That you would come of your own free will.”

He turned with his back on me.

“But things got complicated when I was getting used to you. I no longer wanted to give you as a sacrifice, but I had already promised your soul. So I had to change plans. ”

He approached the doll on the table.

“I made a deal with them. In exchange for your soul I promised to start giving them human sacrifices. All in favor of not killing you.”

He stroked the doll's head and I swore I felt his touch on my head. I realized that it was a representation of me.

“They didn't like it when I made this salt circle. This doll with your cut hair prevents demons from approaching you. They cannot touch you or your soul. They were desperate. And all the more because they feel that time is running out. You are maturing and the purity of your soul that they long for is in danger.”

He paused.

“And if it wasn't for the fact that I have part of the grimoire, and my faithful sacrifices, they would have already tried to kill me. Because I'm the one who endangers your purity, Charlotte.”

He turned to me.

“I thought with the doll in the salt, it would help you be safe. But I didn’t count that they would call you directly to take the doll out of the circle, and thus open the portal to the beyond.”

He sighed.

“Without the protection of salt, you would no longer be in the territory where they cannot consume your soul and, as I can see it, they tried to take you to the other world with your body included.”

His almost cold tranquility at the possibility that I lost my soul to the hands of demons, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“All in all, I have saved your life many times.”

He bowed deeply to me.

“You're welcome, darling.”

He moved his hand and his shadow moved away from mine. I felt that I had mobility again in my body, but I didn’t have the strength to run. I could only cover my face with my hands and began to tremble. This must be a nightmare.

“What are you afraid of, darling?” he said softly, “I regret the harshness of my shadow, but if I didn't use a little force, you wouldn't have listened to me and you would have escaped.”

I was still on the floor. I didn't know what to think or feel. It was too much information that destroyed everything I thought I knew. Mister Alastor was ‘The Vigilante.’ The demons fled at my command. What grimoire was he talking about? How long had he planned to sacrifice me before repenting?

I felt that he had betrayed all my trust. I was afraid, because he could kill me from the beginning, but at the same time, I felt that I was grateful that he protected me from dark forces. I felt how the image I had of him was crumbling. And, also, I felt ashamed because despite everything, I still loved him with all my heart.

He sighed in exasperation to see that I still didn't look at him.

“If it makes you feel better, I only kill criminals and rapists,” he said, leaning towards me, “No one that society will miss. Only subjects persecuted by justice and with detestable actions in the eyes of God. Disgusting men and women with full and complete awareness of their macabre actions.”

I uncovered my face to look at him.

“And above all, I would not kill an innocent such as a child, despite being something that beings from beyond adore to devour. It isn’t within my ethical code.”

It almost seemed like he was apologizing to me. But that was stupid. What he did and what he didn't do was none of my business. He was my boss and I was a maid. The gap between our positions hit me in the face.

I wiped away my tears with my forearm and inhaled deeply before speaking.

“Mister Alastor, I am only your employee. What you do or don't do is none of my business,” I said, almost in a whisper as I looked at the ground, “I must stick to what you tell me, and I will keep your secret safe for you. So, I'll make sure no one else finds out about your... activities.”

“I think something more will have to be done to keep this secret, my dear,” he said.

I breathed several times, to continue.

“In the end, you are helping to deliver justice. And it is appreciated by everyone in town. You are the hero of all the underdogs of the law.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if he was weighing the truthfulness of my words.

Finally, he reached out a hand, and this time I took it to get up. We stood face to face.

“With your permission, sir, I’m going to heat your dinner. You must be hungry,” I said monotonously, trying to advance, but he stopped me with his body.

“I can do it myself, remember who taught you how to cook,” he protested in a joking way.

I still didn't look at him. I didn't want to think. I wanted to go to bed and believe that all this had been nothing but a dream. Forget it all.

I don't know how long we were face to face in a tense silence.

Suddenly, I felt him put his hand on the back of my neck. I thought that he would caress me like a pet as he usually did, but he pushed my head forward until my forehead was resting on his chest. I made no effort to prevent it.

“Are you sad, my dear?” he said with a note of playful intrigue in his voice.

“No.”

“Some of your spark is gone.”

“It'll be back, sir. I'm just a little tired.”

There was a moment of silence. I closed my eyes as I felt my head begin to spin. I was tremendously stunned by everything that had happened and that he held me so close to his body did not help me. His smell of oak, coffee, and blood filled my nose. I heard nothing but his slow breathing and his heartbeat hitting my face. His hand, still on the nape of my neck, began to caress my hair tenderly. Just an hour ago, I would have given all my few material possessions to be with him like this!

“We have a problem here,” I heard him say suddenly.

I didn’t know what he was referring to. I really didn't want to think anymore. I just wanted to erase my steps and never have entered that room. To have ignored the false voice of Mister Alastor that had led me to something that I preferred never to have known. To continue our day to day in happy ignorance, waiting for him faithfully each evening with dinner ready and a new topic of conversation. Living in my little world of happiness that he gave me for the mere fact of existing.

“It would hurt if you hated me now, Charlotte,” he said on a serious note, still playing with my hair.

I was silent. Despite everything I had seen and lived through, I still cared about him too much. I had given him complete access to my heart. That's why it hurt so much to see something of him that I didn't like.

“You are cold.”

He hunched over a little and my head sank between his neck and his jaw. My nose and lips were practically glued to his jugular, and my chin rested on his collarbone over his shirt. He placed a firm hand on the curve of my back and pressed his lips to my ear. His body heat instantly permeated me.

It was a long-awaited dream. Having him so close to me, holding me tight. I wanted to be like this always. I wanted to live in the lie that nothing had changed, desperately.

He had done horrible things, but he was helping people. He had bad intentions at first, but he had already given up on them. He hugged me tenderly, despite having me as bait for those from beyond. A bait that he now protected fiercely, because he cared. He had accepted that he cared about me. I had earned a place in his elusive heart.

Then I understood it. I still adored him. I still loved him intensely. And this new layer of darkness that hung over him had not diminished what I felt.

Was I wrong?

“I could never hate you, Mister Alastor,” I declared, whispering in his ear.

I could feel the tension in his body lighten when he heard my answer.

“Magnificent,” he whispered, pleased.

I closed my eyes and felt myself falling into an abyss of darkness. I stopped listening to the crackling of the logs in the fireplace and everything around me disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvX-C_pMHQ4
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	11. The Living Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The approximation between two people.
> 
> ALERT: Chapter contains explicit content.

“My boy, you’re so smart. You are destined for great things.”

“With your natural talent, you could achieve the most incredible things! Things no other human being could achieve!”

“No! Enough! Don't put Alastor in the shed again!”

I opened my eyes. I adjusted my glasses on the bridge of my nose and sighed heavily. I couldn’t lower my guard for a moment without my ghosts trying to sneak into my head, to torment me again.

The last lights of the day were present from Charlotte's window. I turned on the lamp on her nightstand and continued my reading. Charlotte had long been in a deep sleep, and I had been watching, patiently, until she woke up, sitting in a chair by her bed. I had immersed myself in the reading of “De profundis,” to pass the time. A rare and controversial copy of an epistle by Oscar Wilde, which a friend had loaned me many years ago and that I was never able to return. Frankly, I had taken it off the shelf without much excitement, but I had to admit that some quotes from the manuscript were quite interesting.

“I also forged illusions. I thought life was going to be a brilliant comedy and you were one of its charming characters. I realized that life was a horrible and horrible tragedy, and that the sinister occasion of the great catastrophe was yourself, without that mask of joy and pleasure that seduced you and me and led us astray.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, to think calmly. Charlotte discovering my identity as The Vigilante was something that was not included in my plans. Her passing out from exhaustion had allowed me a broader view of what was happening, to look at it more calmly. Although it was an extraordinary situation, I already believed I had a couple of solutions in mind, to keep things as they were, with the fewest possible consequences.

I looked up from the book. Charlotte had begun to stir in her bed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to close them immediately. She sat up with difficulty and clutched at her head with one hand. She whimpered. She looked around, still stunned, and tried to get up quickly.

“Good evening, dear,” I said.

She was startled. I closed the book and left it on the table.

“Mister Alastor! Are you already dressed? Breakfast...! I'm so sorry ... the alarm clock didn't go off and…” she said, trying to excuse herself.

I raised a hand to slow her down. I got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at me with concern.

“It's getting dark already,” I said, pointing to the window.

She turned to see the sky turn black. Her expression turned to the most comical panic and she cupped her cheeks.

“Than?! Did I sleep a whole day?” she said, scandalized, “How is that possible?”

“Apparently you were tired, dear,” I said offhandedly.

“Who needs that much sleep?” she complained, very worried, “And did you go to work today?”

“Yes, but I left you in good charge with him, in case you woke up.”

I pointed at my shadow, which fluttered until it slid to the wall and grinned widely. She screeched and crawled back until she hit the metal head of the bed.

“After what happened last night, I figured you wanted to regain strength,” I said simply.

She opened and closed his mouth several times. She seemed to be trying to make sense of what I had just said. I raised an eyebrow and moved closer to her face. I stroked the edge of her jaw with my finger until it reached her chin. I raised her countenance until I was face to face with her.

“Oh honey, you don't think that what happened to the wraiths in the ritual room was just a nightmare, right?” I said.

She widened her eyes, and then pursed her lips. Her gaze conveyed painful anguish. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, to take a long breath.

“I-I see,” she stammered, “That wasn't a bad dream, then.”

She looked down and pulled away from my hand. She just sat there, staring at nothing. I waited for her to say something else; some slightly more explosive reaction on her part. Some angry glare that I could handle. Some reproach, words full of hurt and without filters from her heart. Things you could master with eloquence and dignity. I even waited for the little lamp to be thrown in my face; that, I could dodge without problems. But she was only silent for a few moments, her eyes expressionless.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

I reached out to stroke her hair, but she jerked away from my touch. Then, she turned his body and got up from the bed, staggering. It was then that she noticed she was still dressed in the same clothes she had been wearing the day before. She took a deep breath and spoke.

“Mr. Alastor, with your permission, I am going to clean up and change my clothes,” she said as she went to the closet.

I was silent for a few moments, sitting in my place. I figured I could handle the situation, even though she hadn't had any of the expected reactions.

Finally, I stood up and headed for the exit.

“Of course, dear,” I said, with my hands behind my back, “I will give you the space you need. I'm going to heat up dinner. I made baked chicken potatoes.”

She did not answer me. She just grabbed her robe and walked past me, quickly. I saw her lose herself in the hallway, until she slammed the door upon reaching the bathroom.

I let out a sigh. I figured things could have been worse. It was best to give her some time alone and allow her to put her thoughts in order. I went downstairs to heat dinner and set the table. I had to admit, I had been careful in choosing the food. After a full day without eating, Charlotte would have to be starving.

After fifteen minutes I heard her go down the stairs. She entered the kitchen with unusual timidness.

“Have a seat, dear!” I said enthusiastically, “I had to slaughter a chicken from the farmyard for dinner, but it seemed appropriate because you haven't eaten in many hours.”

I laughed. She seemed immutable.

I served her plate and a cup of steaming coffee.

“Bon appetit!” I told her.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

She began to eat, still looking into emptiness. We ate in silence. She remained in an almost catatonic state, without intending to speak to me. Nor was I expecting a big talk from her. After such an experience, she just needed some time to digest it all. And truth be told, she was taking it much better than I expected. My first impression had been that Charlotte would reject me in every way upon discovering my string of murders, and why I was executing them...and her silence was infuriating.

I suppressed a sigh and drank my coffee.

After dinner was over, Charlotte stood up and removed the dishes.

“You don't have to do it for today,” I said, standing up.

She turned on the tap water and stacked the dishes in the sink.

“It is my job, sir,” she said simply, and began to wash the dishes.

I frowned slightly. I waited for her to tell me something else, but she remained silent in her work.

Finally, I turned around and walked to the entrance to the kitchen.

“Well, it is time to sleep. I have no problem if you want to sing or play the piano tonight. I very much doubt that you want to sleep.”

“Rest, sir,” she said monotonously.

I gave her a sideways glance and went to my shadow.

“Stay with her,” I ordered.

My shadow lifted off from my feet and slid down the wall until it looked at Charlotte. She raised her eyes and met those of my shadow, then continued with her work. All of this in an irritating calmness.

“Goodnight,” I said, and left.

I was upset. I didn't know with whom. I didn't know why. I hoped it would be a matter of time before normality would return, as my little secret was no reason to break the natural order of my home. But it would be too naive a sin if I decided to leave everything to chance.

I changed my clothes and went to bed. I huffed through my nose, annoyed. That Charlotte threatened my patience was something new to me. She had always been obedient. Always accommodating. Always ready to follow my requests to the letter with a brilliant attitude and a charming smile. So, witnessing a Charlotte withdrawn and evading my presence was ... unpleasant. Much so. I would have to think soon about what steps I needed to take to regain her light.

I don't know how many hours I spent looking at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. The excess of thoughts was keeping me awake and my body was screaming for a little rest. Suddenly, I heard timid piano keys echoing. I sat up in bed immediately. The notes began to form a beautiful melody. A melancholic song. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before (and music is something I brag about being a connoisseur of).

I lay back down and closed my eyes. The echo of Charlotte's piano melody lulled me like it was a lullaby made for me.

The next thing I knew, my alarm clock was ringing. I immediately turned it off and sat up to put on my glasses. I felt much more rested.

Suddenly, the sound of Charlotte's piano reached my ears. How long had she been playing? I left my room, still in my pajamas, and walked slowly down the stairs.

There she was, playing keys, playing with combinations of notes and writing them down in a notebook every so often. She seemed so absorbed in her work that she didn't even seem to notice my presence.

I sneaked up behind her.

“What are you writing, dear?” I inquired.

She jumped up and turned, completely panicked to look at me.

“Nothing!” she said loudly.

She closed her notebook quickly.

“Good morning, Mister Alastor,” she said without looking at me, “I will make your breakfast right away.”

“There’s no need. I'm not hungry,” I said, dismissing her comment.

I looked at my shadow, which seemed lethargic at Charlotte's feet, like a dozing cat.

“I hope he didn't cause you any trouble,” I said.

“It was quite silent,” she said monotonously.

We were silent. I kept my composure, even though I was incredibly restless. Charlotte seemed to be on the same foot as the night before.

It was then that I decided to change my strategy. I cleared my throat.

“Would you play the piano for me, Charlotte?” I asked.

My request seemed to catch her off guard. She bit her lower lip nervously.

“What do you want me to play?” she said without looking at me.

“Whatever you wish, my dear!” I exclaimed, “Whatever makes your spirit feel a little less dejected.”

She thought a few moments before nodding at my request. She settled herself quietly on the piano bench and inhaled deeply.

“This song was the last one I learned before I had to leave my life at the mansion,” she said quietly.

I sat next to her on the long wooden seat, to watch her closely.

It started with a sweet and laborious piano melody, before she started singing.

_**Parlez-moi d'amour** _

_**Redites-moi des choses tendres** _

_**Votre beau discours** _

_**Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre** _

_**Pourvu que toujours** _

_**Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes** _

_**Je vous aime** _

Charlotte kept her eyes closed as she sang. She looked completely inspired.

_**Vous savez bien** _

_**Que dans le fond, je n'en crois rien** _

_**Mais cependant je veux encore** _

_**Écouter ces mots que j'adore** _

_**Votre voix aux sons caressants** _

_**Qui le murmure en frémissant** _

_**Me berce de sa belle histoire** _

_**Et malgré moi je veux y croire** _

_**Parlez-moi d'amour** _

_**Redites-moi des choses tendres** _

_**Votre beau discours** _

_**Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre** _

_**Pourvu que toujours** _

_**Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes** _

_**Je vous aime** _

Her voice was firm and melodious. Her expression conveyed serenity, like someone who knew that everything was under control.

_**Il est si doux** _

_**Mon cher trésor, d'être un peu fou** _

_**La vie est parfois trop amère** _

_**Si l'on ne croit pas aux chimères** _

_**Le chagrin est vite apaisé** _

_**Et se console d'un baiser** _

_**Du cœur on guérit la blessure** _

_**Par un serment qui le rassure** _

_**Parlez-moi d'amour** _

_**Redites-moi des choses tendres** _

_**Votre beau discours** _

_**Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre** _

_**Pourvu que toujours** _

_**Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes** _

_**Je vous aime** _

She stopped singing on a long note and was silent. She lowered her hands to rest on her lap and lowered her head.

“Was that alright?” she said quietly, still looking at her hands.

“I didn't understand much of the lyrics,” I lied.

She started twiddling her thumbs.

“But your voice is wonderful, darling,” I added.

The hint of a smile formed on her lips. But, she stayed in place.

“Would you be so kind as to translate a piece?” I suggested.

She looked up for a moment to look me in the eye and then look down at her hands again.

"Tell me about love.

Tell me tender things again.

Your beautiful speech,

my heart never tires of listening, as

long as you.

repeat those supreme words:

“I love you.”

“You know well that deep down, I don't believe anything.

And yet I still want to

hear those words that I adore so much.”

She looked down again in complete silence. Then, I noticed something I had missed: Where was the red on her cheeks?

From the connotation of the lyrics, she would generally be very nervous and giggling about the meaning of the song. But there she was; impassive and still. As if her being and her essence had been sheltered in an armor. Completely unalterable to the song she herself had sung.

I frowned.

I felt it. I wanted to pretend not to feel it, but I was sorry. I was beginning to fear that her natural energy and joviality would be replaced by that uncomfortable tension that vibrated between us. The irritating distance she kept from me was starting to feel really nasty.

For the first time in a long time, I felt adrift because of how someone else felt. I needed to feel like I was in control again. That the balance would recover. I needed Charlotte to return to normal.

I huffed through my nose and brushed a few specks of dust off her shoulder with my hand. She did not move.

“You know I'm not going to kill you, Charlotte,” I said more seriously.

“I know, sir,” she said without flinching, “If you had wanted to hurt me, you would have done so already.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What are you afraid of, dear?” I asked, leaning towards her.

“I am not afraid of anything, sir,” she said, lifting her shoulders.

“Not even death?” I said between laughs, raising an eyebrow.

“I've lived with death enough, it's not as bad as it seems,” she said simply.

It was maddening. Her attitude was unbearable. Her eyes that avoided mine. Her lips that refused to smile, the fire of her spirit abated to faint embers. All of it generated an overwhelming accumulation of sensations that I did not want to have.

I needed to know what she was thinking. I needed to know what she thought of me now. I needed to reestablish order, desperately.

I started playing a few keys on the piano, randomly.

“I didn't want you to know,” I said seriously, still smiling.

“I can understand why you didn't want to, sir,” she replied without interest.

“The truth is, I would prefer that things did not change at home.”

“I will continue to do my job without fail, as long as you’ll have my services.”

“It's quite strange to see you act without your usual humor, my dear,” I said without stopping, looking at the keys.

“I guess it takes some time to digest, sir. Everything will return to normal, I hope.”

I leaned over to her, feigning good cheer.

“You have no questions? I feel generous. I could answer the ones I would not commonly do.”

“Perhaps later, Mister Alastor,” she said, turning her head in the opposite direction from me.

Another silence.

I stopped playing the piano. She didn't seem to want to go on, and I figured there was nothing more to talk about.

I stood up and went to my room. I got dressed quickly and went down to the main entrance. I put on the last good jacket I had left and my bag.

“Aren't you going to have breakfast?” she said, without turning to look at me.

“I don't feel like it. I will be late today. Have a good day, my dear,” I said, and left the house.

I stood on the porch for a moment and massaged my eyes in frustration. I directed my gaze to my shadow.

“Keep her company today,” I ordered.

Immediately, he crawled under the door and into the house. That would be enough to keep her under surveillance. Frankly, I didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone in these conditions, but I had to get to the radio station to fulfill my day.

All day I was restless. I kept my mind at work as long as I could, so as not to fall into ramblings. I looked from time to time at Charlotte, through the eyes of my shadow. She didn't seem to do anything outside of her morning routine, except that she didn't turn on the radio to listen to my show. She fed the animals in the stable. She cleaned and cooked. Washed and ironed. Without considering her expressionless face, it didn't seem like it was a day out of her daily activities.

It was only in the afternoon, when everything was done, that she sat down at the piano and pressed a few notes and started crying. She wept bitterly. She let out heart-rending wails, covering her face, hunched over on the piano seat. She leaned back on the keyboard, pounding on the keys making them sound together in an unpleasant noise.

I decided to stop looking. That crying was tremendously uncomfortable. Why was it less bearable to see her cry than to see a mother and her children crying over the father of the family, dead on the sidewalk? I tried to focus on the song that was currently broadcasting on the station.

_**The moon was all aglow** _

_**But heaven was in your eyes** _

_**The night that you told me** _

_**Those little white lies** _

_**The stars all seemed to know** _

_**You didn't mean all those sighs** _

_**The night that you told me** _

_**Those little white lies** _

_**I try, but there's no forgetting** _

_**When evenin’ appears** _

_**I sigh but there's no regretting** _

_**In spite of my tears** _

_**Who wouldn't believe those lips** _

_**Who wouldn't believe those eyes** _

_**The night that you told me** _

_**Those little white lies** _

_**I try, but there's no forgetting** _

_**When evenin’ appears** _

_**I sigh but there's no regretting** _

_**In spite of my tears** _

_**The Devil was in your heart** _

_**But Heaven was in your eyes** _

_**The night that you told me** _

_**Those little white lies** _

_**Those lies** _

_**Teeny-weeny little white lies** _

The song ended and the "On Air" sign lit up again.

“That was ‘Little white lies,’ ladies and gentlemen,” I said into the microphone, “White lies can be your best friends if you use them wisely.”

The next few hours of work kept my mind busy. I hummed each song and avoided looking around the house again. I didn't want to have that unpleasant feeling if I saw Charlotte cry again.

At the end of my day, I went to Rosie's place with the excuse of going to buy another coat. Frankly, I wasn't in the mood to get home yet. She enthusiastically greeted me at her store and invited me to have a coffee with cheese rolls.

“You gave me a taste for coffee, dear friend,” she said, sitting at a discreet table on one side of the room.

“What can I say? Tea is overrated,” I said simply.

I tried on several models, until I decided on a long, dark gray coat. The image returned to me by the mirror pleased me quite a bit.

“I think I'll keep this one, dear Rosie,” I said, fixing the lapels, “It seems to me a garment with the stamp of quality and elegance that you give to everything you do.”

“As flattering as ever,” she said, smearing her muffin with butter, “but don't think I'll over-discount you.”

“HA! I would not expect less than paying the fair price, my friend,” I said, modeling a little more for myself.

“By the way, how did Charlotte's dress fit?” she said expectantly.

“Great!” I exclaimed, “She was truly grateful for the gesture.”

“It was a fair deal,” she said, barely showing her teeth, “And how did you think she looked?”

I put a hand on my chin.

“Hm... being fair? No heavenly being could be compared to Charlotte that night.”

“I figured,” she said with a smile of triumphant arrogance.

She picked up her mug and began to turn the teaspoon, with feigned nonchalance.

“And I suppose the undergarments matched her that night,” she said insidiously.

I stopped dead in my tracks and raised an eyebrow, appearing ignorant.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Rosie,” I said, “but I certainly did not open the contents of the bag that included her private garments.”

She drank some of her coffee before speaking.

“I meant for you to see them on her skin, Alastor,” she said in disbelief.

“I haven't seen any of that, dear,” I said firmly.

She frowned in annoyance.

“Charlotte is already a young adult. Don't tell me you've never seen her as the beautiful woman she's become, Alastor, because that would be an unforgivable sin.”

I took off my coat and dropped it on my arm.

“Oh, indeed, Charlotte is a charming lady,” I said approaching her seat, “but you are wrong in the type of relationship we have. Everything is very professional at home.”

She set her cup, loudly, on the saucer and looked at me.

“Excuse me if I make a misstatement…” she said, cautiously, “but I really believed that the next step would be marriage for the two of you.”

I laughed out loud.

“My dear, you misunderstand the wonderful friendship I share with my sweet Charlotte,” I rectified.

She rested her chin on the back of her hand. She looked at me maliciously, showing her teeth.

“Really, Alastor?” she said, smiling, “I have known you for many years, friend, but the only woman I have considered you to look really comfortable with is Charlotte.”

“Are you suggesting something, dear?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

She gave a sharp laugh.

“Oh, you know I never hint at anything if I don't see concrete facts, my dear Alastor,” she said with a wicked look.

“You know very well that my life plans are far from your predictions,” I said, putting my hands behind my back.

“Plans you left long ago on recess,” she said, amused, “but take it easy. Continue at whatever pace you deem appropriate. I'll just wait patiently on how you try to take charge of your decisions, when your carriage derails.”

She laughed again. My smile tightened, but I decided it would be better to put the matter aside.

“Oh, by the way, I couldn't ask you before,” I said casually, “How was the ‘liver'?”

“Tough and bland,” she said, rolling her eyes, “It was no use cooking it over low heat. Not even dead did the useless Franklin do anything useful.”

I put on my jacket and started buttoning it.

“I really don't share your exotic taste of eating your ex-husband's liver,” I said fluently, “but I'm not here to judge.”

She laughed heartily.

“Thanks again for the help, Al,” she said, eating a bun, “I could never have hidden the body by myself.”

“What are friends for?” I said, putting a hand on my chest.

“I still don't know how you managed to clean up the blood I left on the floor,” she said, standing up.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” I said, widening my smile.

She huffed, but asked no more questions.

“Would that be all?" she said, as she put my new coat in a bag.

“Yes, I have had a couple of altercations that left me without variety in my clothes,” I said.

I paid her twelve dollars and fifty cents and set out to go home, but Rosie gave me a second bag.

“And what is this?” I said curiously.

“Something for Charlotte,” she said, as she pushed me to the exit, “Don't you notice how old she looks in all those old-fashioned clothes? With this, you are not going to clash an original 'Rosie' dress. Oh, the disgrace that they mismatch my products!”

We reached the entrance and she opened the door for me. I took my bag off the hook and she practically pushed me out onto the street.

“It was a pleasant visit! Have a good afternoon! You can pay me later!” she said, in good spirits.

The door slammed, and the welcome bell chimed inside. Rosie turned the sign from "Open" to "Closed" and closed the curtains on her premises.

I stood there, impassive, with the bags in my hands, looking at the door of Rosie's shop. I looked at the extra bag curiously. It was a red women's coat. And at the bottom of the bag were new panties and scarlet underwear.

I groaned as I rolled my eyes. Rosie was going to charge me for these extra clothes. I preferred not to think about it and left, heading home.

The way back seemed, to me, unnecessarily short. I avoided glancing at Charlotte in my shadow before I got there. I hoped at least she wasn't crying anymore.

It was already dark and the lights in the house were off.

“Come here,” I whispered.

My shadow reached my feet and hovered enthusiastically.

“Where is she?” I implored it.

It slipped up the stairs.

“I see. She’s asleep,” I said, relieved.

I left the bags at the entrance and went to the kitchen. A stew dinner was in the pot and I helped myself to a little. It was a lonely and silent dinner. My foot began to move restlessly, a habit that I had tried to suppress in time, but when I felt overwhelmed, it manifested itself.

I stood up and made my way to the living room, not bothering to take the dirty plate off the table. I turned on the radio and set the fireplace on fire with a snap.

_**Though I've nothing but love to offer** _

_**There is nothing I couldn't do** _

_**Either right or wrong, I could get along** _

_**Loving you the way I do** _

_**I could dine in on bread and water** _

_**Locked in chains with my thoughts on you!** _

_**Gosh, but love's a crime, but I'd serve my time** _

_**Loving you the way I do** _

_**Nothing in this world could divide us** _

_**Though dark clouds hide us for a while** _

_**I could find the dullest day exciting** _

_**To go on fighting for your smile, dear** _

_**Now I've told you just how I'm feeling** _

_**If you're feeling the same way too** _

_**Baby, now's the time, say you're glad that I'm** _

_**Loving you the way I do** _

I looked at the radio in annoyance and turned it off. I forgot that in the afternoon such songs were broadcast. I took a random book off the shelf and tried to read, so I wouldn't have to think. The sound of the clock ticking and burning wood was the only thing that kept me company. I spent a long time like this, without really paying attention to what I was reading. If it wasn't for the fact that I recognized the word “Frankenstein,” I would never have found out the title I chose.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch, because the next thing I heard was the distressing sound of Razzle and Dazzle, my goats, in the stable. I looked at the time. Two o'clock in the morning.

I stood up quickly, went up to my room to grab my rifle, and when I returned to the hallway, I found Charlotte leaving her room, scared and in her nightgown. We stared at each other for a few seconds, in amazement, in the middle of the darkness, until another cry from the goats shook us. I quickly descended the stairs, with Charlotte on my heels. We left our home and I shot into the air with my shotgun. If someone was around, that would be enough to get him away.

“Make a round,” I ordered my shadow, and his eyes were lost in the darkness of the night.

I looked around, rifle loaded and ready, in case someone showed up. Charlotte was no longer by my side. I looked for her and guessed where she had gone.

I went to the stable quickly, and Charlotte was already there. Razzle and Dazzle approached her, trying to ward off what had scared them. Charlotte was stroking them tenderly.

“Now, now, little ones. Momma’s here. Everything’s fine,” she said sweetly, still hugging them.

Something flipped in my chest. The image of Charlotte comforting these creatures seemed completely charming to me. With a gentle hand, she stroked them and whispered tender words. Like a mother, cooing to her frightened offspring. Why would that image move me? What made watching her pet a goat different than watching a mother playing with her child in the park?

When they seemed calmer, she kissed their foreheads and stood up. She turned to look at me with a worried expression.

“What happened?” she said.

“Burglars.” I said simply, “My shadow saw them flee from here, but they are far enough away that they don’t intend to return.”

“I'm glad they didn't take them away,” she said, looking at the goats.

“Despair can lead people to do outrageous things,” I said, lowering my rifle, “Surely they were very hungry.”

“Certainly.”

The uncomfortable silence reappeared between us. I gave a sigh. It was cold, and Charlotte was barefoot. Her icy breath was noticeable. I looked at the sky. It was beginning to cloud over.

“Let's go home, dear,” I said, starting to walk.

I heard her close the corral and follow me.

Once inside the house, I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Charlotte was looking at me expectantly from the door.

“Face the fireplace fire, my dear,” I said, “Your feet will thank you.”

Without replying, she made her way to the living room. I stayed in the kitchen until the water boiled and I served two cups of coffee. I put three tablespoons of sugar in Charlotte's, and I went to the room.

Charlotte was sitting on the loveseat in front of the fireplace. She looked at the fire hungrily. I sat next to her and offered her a cup of coffee. She looked at me a moment before taking it.

“Thank you.” She muttered.

“You're welcome, sweetheart,” I said willingly.

We drank from our drinks, warming up our icy bodies. I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She was still staring into the fire, the rim of the mug touching her bottom lip. I didn't know how much longer we could be like this. Certainly, there was a chance that she would go away, and I had supernatural methods to silence her. But I didn't feel comfortable in the least subjecting her to such deals. I was rushing to conclusions. I still had options to use to try to regain the naturalness of our relationship.

I leaned forward and leaned my elbows on my thighs, looking at my mug in my hands.

“Charlotte, my dear,” I said, trying to sound casual, “I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to a place tomorrow, before going to the market.”

She looked at me in surprise. Then, she seemed quite awkward. I laughed heartily.

“No, my dear, I am not telling you to accompany me to murder anyone,” I said, adjusting my glasses.

She seemed to relax a little. I looked at her, amused.

“What do you say?” I said, with narrowed eyes.

She seemed to ponder it a bit.

“If you want me to go with you, I will,” she said with reservations.

“Splendid!” I exclaimed, standing up.

She winced. I patted my forehead.

“By the way, my dear, I have a gift for you,” I said.

I went to the entrance and took one of the bags from Rosie's place.

“I hope it is appropriate. Tomorrow it will probably rain,” I said, holding out the bag.

She checked the contents of the bag and took out the red coat. She stretched it out and admired it with bright eyes.

“I hope it is to your liking,” I said, smiling.

She looked at me for a moment, before looking at the coat again.

“Thank you very much, sir,” she said quietly.

“Inside are other things that Rosie sent you,” I said, “but I recommend that you review them in private.”

She kept looking at the coat. At least I could feel that she was a little less tense. I went to the stairs and looked at her from there.

“Well, my dear, tomorrow we will leave at nine o'clock. Now I go to rest. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” she replied without looking at me.

I suppressed a sigh and went to my room.

I fell into a slightly calmer sleep than the night before. There were no stormy nightmares, no buried voices that wanted to reach me, which I appreciated when I woke up.

Saturday was one of the best days of the week. I could afford a quieter and more enjoyable breakfast. I could cook with Charlotte for the day's lunch and we would go to the market in the afternoon. We could afford to chat in the Plaza del Congo without haste, and see the traveling musicians and artists. Sometimes I even agreed to go to the movies with her, even though the images on the screen were not entirely to my liking. We shared the same sense of humor and laughed heartily at the same jokes and comments, and at night, after dinner, we would read in the living room or sing in duet with the songs that were broadcast on the radio.

Saturday was definitely a great day, without exception.

But, this time, I had plans that were far from a pleasant departure.

It was seven in the morning. A little later than I regularly got up on the weekend. I went to the bathroom to clean up, dressed the best I could, and went down to breakfast. Charlotte was already there, ready to go out, in the red dress I had given her days before. She was not humming as she served the morning coffee, and did not seem to notice my presence either.

I stared at her in silence from the kitchen entrance. I liked that red dress. It made Charlotte display all her noble and sensual attributes, in an elegant and majestic manner, in a way only a lady of bearing could do. She wore her new tights, accentuating her shapely legs in black leggings. I wondered if she was also wearing the new set of intimate apparel that Rosie had sent her in the bag. I grabbed the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, annoyed, to dismiss that thought.

“Good morning, Mister Alastor,” she said in a monotonous voice.

“Good morning dear!” I exclaimed, with a big smile.

“Please take a seat. Your breakfast is ready,” she said, putting toast on the table.

“You're too kind,” I said as I sat down.

She sat next to me and we started eating. Again, I could feel the tension of the day before, like a huge, thick, invisible wall that she had established between us. She ignored me. She seemed to find the half-burned edges of her bread more interesting than looking up to chat with me. I ate quickly and stood up.

“Hurry up, my dear! Or we will be late!” I said, in good spirits.

She looked at me shyly.

“Where are we going, sir?” she said, finally.

I smiled broadly at her, narrowing my eyes.

“To the cemetery,” I said.

I did not listen to her claims, or her insecurities. I just went to the entrance and took my new coat out of Rosie's boutique bag and put it on, calmly in the world.

Charlotte came behind me, with urgency.

“Mister Alastor, I really don't think it's... wise to go,” she tried to excuse herself.

“Nonsense, my dear,” I said, turning to her, “I need you to come with me to see to some unfinished business.”

“In the cemetery?”

“In the cemetery.”

She seemed to want to argue, but she took a deep breath and unhooked her new coat from the coat rack. She adjusted it and tied it around her waist, her lips tight. I couldn't help but look her up and down. The coat fit her wonderfully. Rosie was right; Charlotte was now a woman. A beautiful and elegant woman.

I took the umbrella by the entrance and offered her my arm.

“Come on?” I invited her, with a smile.

She took my offer, without looking at me.

We left the house going towards the tram at a relaxed pace. It was better to do things early. The stone and dirt road was humid with an air of serenity. The sky was gray with clouds, threatening rain, and our footsteps were the only things that broke the silence of the quiet forest.

We got to the tram and the crowd of the day was composed of many, but was a noticeably lesser crowd in the face of the promised downpour. Charlotte remained thoughtful and distant. I made no effort to establish a talk on the way, as I, surely, would end up monologizing. Therefore, when we got off the tram, we remained silent on the street. Me, with a haughty gaze towards the front, and she, with her gaze on any other point that was not on me.

“Flowers! Bring flowers for every occasion!” we heard someone yelling.

I turned around and it was an old lady in a modest cart with various kinds of flowers.

“How convenient!” I exclaimed, “Darling, choose the ones you like best.”

Charlotte looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s for a good cause,” I said, shrugging, “We can't come empty handed.”

She looked at me skeptically, but then she turned and began to search among the plants.

“My, but what a beautiful couple you make,” said the lady

“We are not a couple, ma'am,” Charlotte said neutrally.

I chuckled and looked at the awkward old woman.

“We have had a bad week,” I said, in a confident tone.

The old woman opened her eyes, then gave a shy and toothless laugh.

I watched Charlotte pick up a small bouquet of red flowers with orange tints.

“Are you sure you want those?” I said, amazed at the simplicity of the flower.

“They are canna Lucifer bulbs. Dad's favorites. He had many bushes of them at our home’s entrance,” she said wistfully.

“We'll take those, a bouquet of yellow daffodils, and another bouquet of lilies, please.”

The old woman enthusiastically took the order and carefully wrapped the flowers in newspaper.

When I paid, I took a white rose, put it in my jacket pocket, and winked at the lady. She smiled and took a flower for herself, too.

We headed back towards the cemetery. The place was even gloomier on such a gray day. The white tombs, stained with the earth by the neglect of time, the monuments of plaster angels in wailing positions and suffering before the tombs, gave an extra morbid tone to the place. The few people who were on the road cleaned the graves and arranged flowers to honor their dead.

We walked in a straight line along the main path of the cemetery. As we advanced, the tombs were increasingly stacked and with much less care in their construction, to the point that some were completely deteriorated, with the name worn or totally erased or destroyed by looters.

Charlotte was following me expectantly, and I assume she spent a long time weighing what she said to me.

“Where are we going?”

“To see someone very special,” I said.

We then arrived at a large, fenced-in lot. The chain link fence was filled with new and dried flowers, messages of love and regret on paper, and even a few toys tied to it with tattered, worn, and filthy scraps of fabric. On the other side was an extensive area of land as large as three soccer fields. It had half-laid boards, and there were clearly holes in the floor. Lots of holes in the floor. A few ragged-looking people stood nearby, on their knees and muttering prayers.

“Is… this a mass grave?” Charlotte said in amazement.

“So it is, dear,” I said.

I handed the lilies I was carrying to Charlotte. I put aside the bouquet of daffodils, removed the wrapping paper from the newspaper that I had, and began to place them in the metal mesh in silence. Charlotte watched me respectfully as I did my work. When I finished, I couldn't help but smile sadly.

“Somewhere in this place are my mother's remains,” I said, with my hands behind my back, “It is unfortunate that I cannot find her body, even with black magic. It's been too long and her bones are already crumbled.”

“I thought it took much longer for the bones to turn to dust,” Charlotte said.

“For a normal sinner. But my mother practiced black magic. The bones of a witch do not usually leave any remains in the world of mortals. When you make a pact with the hereafter, they take charge of everything you were in your mortal life.”

“She taught you...?” she said reservedly.

“The basics. Yes,” I said simply, “Much of what I know, though, was thanks to research I did on my own.”

Charlotte looked at the daffodils in the gate.

“She must have been a good person,” she said.

I smiled.

“She was a splendid woman. But despite her great knowledge, unless it was necessary, she never made more sacrifices than small farm animals for her spells.”

I stroked one of the petals of the daffodils.

“She only killed two people in her life, and in both cases, it was to save me.”

She looked at me in surprise.

“Killing people gives you much more powerful abilities in spells for a limited time, or you can keep that power in reserve,” I explained.

“Can a dead man be revived?” Charlotte said suddenly.

I chuckled.

“No, darling. There are rules even for magic. Reviving a person demands a fairly large price and is only possible in adequate conditions,” I explained.

“Sacrifices,” she said understandingly.

I smiled broadly.

“To revive someone, you have a maximum of six hours from the moment of death,” I explained, “And that someone must be willing to sacrifice part of his own lifetime to give it to the person who is going to be revived.”

I looked at Charlotte, and she seemed amazed. Then, we looked at the pantheon for a few moments in respectful silence. Despite everything that had happened in the past few days, that moment was not at all uncomfortable. I had mixed emotions. On the one hand, the inevitable nostalgia generated by being in front of my mother's grave, and, on the other, the tranquility that I felt when sharing that moment with Charlotte.

“Well, there are still places to visit,” I said, offering her my arm.

She took it and we walked the way back, turning away from the mass grave. Luckily, our destination was not far away. We walked among some ancient tombs, until we reached a small clearing where there were stone benches, arranged in a semi circle. In the center of the clearing was a small ceramic sculpture of the goddess Themis, with her unmistakable blindfold. She was much whiter and more cared for than all the other sculptures we had seen during the day. The sculpture felt out of place with the gloomy aspect of the area. The graves, with holy symbols of Christendom, seemed to repudiate with cold eyes that small figure of the goddess of justice. In the inscription on the base it said: "Res non verba.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Charlotte said next to me.

“I'm surprised you know Latin, my dear,” I said, interested.

“My dad taught me,” she said simply.

The figure was crowded at her feet with flowers and letters embedded between her fingers, in the exposed folds, but above all, in the saucers of her scale.

“What is this?” Charlotte said, looking at the figure.

“Requests. Thanks. Tributes,” I said nonchalantly.

I took a letter and began to read it calmly. Charlotte seemed disturbed.

“What are you doing?” she said, annoyed, “Don't you see this is all for some kind of pagan deity?”

I laughed out loud.

“Take it easy, sweetheart, these letters are for me,” I said haughtily.

She gaped at me.

“This is a small monument that the people of the town have taken as a way to pay tribute to the image of The Vigilante,” I explained nonchalantly, “Using the goddess of justice as a symbol seems quite right to me, really.”

I took the letter I was reading and handed it to her. Her countenance darkened.

“I see. ‘Thank you, Vigilante, for killing my sister's killer,’” she read.

She took another letter. And one more.

“‘At last I can sleep peacefully. God bless you, vigilante. You avenged my daughter's honor.’”

“‘Thank you for killing my husband's killer. You are the hero of our family.’”

“‘Thank you for granting my pleas.’”

Charlotte stared at the letters for a few moments. She seemed to be meditating on those words written by strangers, who adored the figure of a stealthy being who administered violent, but satisfying justice.

“Good afternoon,” we heard behind our backs.

I turned around and saw an old man. He had a bouquet of daisies and a battered teddy bear in his hands.

“Good afternoon,” I replied cordially.

“I see that you also admire the work that The Vigilante has done,” he said courteously.

“That's right, we came to show our respect for such noble service to the city,” I said with a hand on my chest, “We’ve brought a bouquet of lilies as an offering.”

Charlotte tensed next to me.

“Isn't that so, Charlotte?” I said, turning an eye to her.

“Oh, of course…” she mused.

She bent down to the base of the statue and put the bouquet of white flowers there.

“I'm glad you have,” said the man, also crouching down, “He is the saint of all those unprotected by justice.”

He arranged the bouquet of daisies and straightened.

“The vigilante has helped me find some peace since my daughter was murdered,” said the melancholy man, “You don't know how happy it made me to know that he ended the subjects who abused her and killed her boyfriend. They had so many plans…”

The man gave a content sob and wiped a lonely tear from his eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry you have to listen to an old man's delusions,” he said with a forced smile.

“Think nothing of it,” Charlotte said, moved.

The old man put the teddy bear lying at the feet of the figure.

“I hope my daughter and her boyfriend can finally rest in peace,” the old man concluded.

He turned to us, excused himself, and left there.

I looked at Charlotte. Her expression indicated to me that she was experiencing internal turmoil. I looked at the hazy sky again. A few drops were beginning to fall. I opened the umbrella and settled down next to her.

“Shall we move on?” I suggested.

She slowly nodded and took my arm. We headed to the cemetery sector with the largest and most elaborate graves. They looked like small white houses with elegant columns that raised the cornice of the entrance and porticos with neat and sterile stairs.

“This should be your family's mausoleum, right, my dear?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“If I remember correctly, there was a fountain near here,” she said, looking around.

We found the fountain a little further on. Thanks to it, we were able to locate the mausoleum. It was a structure clearly larger and finer than those around it. At the entrance were sculptures of intricate ornate vines running the length of the door. At the top was an elaborate sign, part of the same facade that said “Magne.” We approached the gate and Charlotte looked at the huge, rusty padlock that blocked our way.

“No problem,” I said, and snapped my fingers.

The lock opened cleanly. I removed the padlock and opened the door to let her through. She tensed before entering. I followed her.

Inside, the Magne mausoleum displayed the majesty of the family to perfection. The painted glass mosaics in the upper windows allowed multicolored lights to enter the interior. The family graves were stacked on a wall in the background. There were sixteen holes, of which nine were already occupied and one appeared to have been broken.

A long bench of polished marble stood in front of the graves, and huge ceramic vases were arranged at each corner, with long-faded roses. Between each grave there was a small planter attached to the structure, to deposit flowers as well. There was a small table on one side of the room, with an open bible in the psalms, with damp, yellowed leaves.

Charlotte stood looking at the stacked graves. She seemed to be even paler than normal. I put a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her to help her instill courage. She pursed her lips and approached the two graves that were lower and seemed more recent. Each grave had a bronze plaque with the name of the deceased.

“Those are?” I asked, standing next to her.

“Yes. They are those of my parents,” she said with resignation.

She arranged the flowers she had brought in the planter that was between the graves of both parents. She looked at the other graves.

“The ones below are from my grandparents and my great-grandparents,” she said pointing. “I never had the chance to meet any of them.”

She hugged herself and looked at the graves.

“It's strange to come here, finally,” she said, “I would have brought something to clean them. They are very dirty.”

I approached the broken grave. It seemed to have been forcibly desecrated, but it was empty inside. From the order they were in, it seemed that the grave had belonged to someone who had died before their parents.

“And this one here?” I said, pointing to the broken grave, off to the side.

Charlotte frowned and looked closer.

“I don’t know,” she said.

She came to investigate it as well.

“I think it has something inside,” she said, and stretched out her arm as much as she could, taking out something metallic and square.

Charlotte inspected it and gave a squeal of horror. She released it and it hit the floor.

I hurried to get closer. Charlotte had her mouth covered with her hands. I gathered what had impacted her so much. It was a metal plate like the one on the other graves, but this era looked much older and more worn than her parents'. In the legend it said:

“In honor of Charlotte Magne, beloved daughter. 1910-1918.”

I looked at Charlotte, who was still too shocked to speak.

“This is a plaque with your name on it,” I said, with my hand on my chin, “Are there no other Charlottes in your family?”

Charlotte shook her head and looked at me. She looked terrified.

“Why is there a plaque with my name on it?” she said as she stepped back to take a seat on the marble bench.

I sat next to her with the plate in my hands.

“I don't know why it impacts you so much, dear,” I said simply, “Maybe your uncle had it readied to try to kill you much earlier.”

She looked at me. There was a lot of fear in her eyes.

“Mister Alastor, all my life my uncle told me the same thing: ‘Charlotte Magne died a long time ago,’” she said grimly, “I never knew what he was referring to. But he never treated me like a person. He kept me locked in the house, he looked at me as if from one moment to the next I was going to explode. He always kept an eye on me. He gave me an education, so that people would not speak... but he always treated me like he was cursed.”

She held her head in both hands and hunched over. She was too overwhelmed to keep talking.

Then it came to me, like a ray of light. A revelation. It all fell into place.

An old plaque with the name Charlotte. The premature death of her parents. The indifference and words of her uncle. Insistence on Charlotte's soul. The Magne's grimoire.

That was. The answer. The wonderful answer.

I started to laugh. I laughed out loud. It was a liberating laugh. That laugh that comes from having achieved a solution that you sought for so long.

I caught my breath and looked at Charlotte, who looked confused and offended.

“Oh, I feel like I'm seeing things more clearly now,” I said, and inhaled deeply.

I put a hand on her head and looked straight at her.

“Honey, you don't have to worry,” I assured her, “What happened to your uncle should not be a reason of torment for your soul. And what that plaque says is nothing but a vile lie.”

She didn't move away from me when I put a hand on her chin.

“You are here and now, and that is what matters.”

She frowned and forced a smile.

“I guess I can try,” she said.

I smiled at her more broadly.

We were silent, looking at the graves for a couple of minutes. The sound of rain began to be present from outside.

“I wish I could speak to them,” she said suddenly.

“Try it,” I said.

“I am sure you consider it delusional to speak to the graves. They won't listen to me,” she whispered, annoyed.

“And don't you?” I said, cocking my head.

She bit her lip and looked down. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“I thought so,” I said, satisfied.

“Surely they won't listen to me, but I want to try,” she said with determination.

I understood what she was referring to.

“Go ahead, dear,” I said.

She stood up. She took a deep breath and looked up.

“Hi Mom. Hello Dad,” she said in a whisper.

She paused for a moment before continuing.

“Dad, Mom, I'm sorry I didn't come earlier,” she said, looking at the burials, “Really, excuse me for not having the courage to. But it really has been very difficult to be without you. Things at home became very ugly for everyone since Uncle Michael was in charge. And I never had the opportunity to manage the farm, or to demonstrate to everyone that not all Magne are the same. Although, I probably would have done it wrong... Without proper help, I probably would have been lost. I still needed you badly when you left.”

She took a moment and continued.

“You may already be aware, but now I live with Mister Alastor. He saved my life and gave me a home. Like the one I didn't feel I had ever since you both left. He is a very good person and I would have loved for you to have met him. I am sure you all would have gotten along very well.”

She took a deep breath and calmed down before speaking again. She clenched her fists.

“I have learned to do many things with him. I learned to cook and take care of farm animals. I would have liked for you to see the things we do in his taxidermy workshop or to try the Jambalaya that I can now prepare...”

For a moment, I wished they could hear her.

She fell silent and then turned to look at me, as if she was asking permission.

“My mom sang a song for me every night,” she said suddenly, “I still remember it clearly. She adapted it with my name.”

“It would be proper to sing to them while they sleep,” I said, without looking at her.

She was silent. She wiped a lonely tear from her eyes and took a breath to sing.

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**J 't'apprendrai à filer la laine,** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**J 't'apprendrai à fair' des sabots.** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**You n'iras jamais à l'école,** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**J 't'apprendrai tout ce qu'il en faut.** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**Your sauras cultivator la terre,** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**J 'te donn'rai voiture et chevaux.** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**J 'te donnerai-z-une bon époux,** _

_**Fais dodo mon petit Charlotte,** _

_**A beau jour t'auras des marmots** _

The song ended with difficulty, between whimpers.

“I love them,” she concluded with effort.

She wiped away the tears. She took several deep breaths to calm down. I remained seated, while looking at her figure, her back to me. I figured it was a moment that I didn't want to interrupt.

Charlotte's encounter with her dead was something we all wanted to avoid. A vision of a past where life was simpler, surrounded by people who adored her, thinking that her future would be bright, suddenly interrupted by reality and the ephemeral nature of existence. I preferred to stay out of the banal. I focused on more important things to do and take advantage of in my time on earth. After all, being a sinner had consequences and I was not interested in deserving them soon.

When Charlotte gave a last long sniff, and patted her cheeks, I stood up to stand beside her.

“Do you feel better?” I said.

“In truth, a little,” she said, hugging herself, “Nothing will bring the dead back from the grave. But at least I can be sure that I can make the most of my life and make them feel proud, wherever they are.”

“Oh, they would be proud of you, my dear,” I said smiling.

She turned and looked at me with bright eyes. Full of melancholy, but with a hint of hope. She smiled. After two days, she finally gave me a sincere smile. And she didn't know how much I had missed her.

“Thank you for coming with me, Mister Alastor. I never would have dared to come alone,” she said with resignation.

I chuckled. I took the white rose out of my lapel and put it in the vase, with the bouquet that Charlotte had placed.

“You continue to underestimate yourself,” I said.

“Also... I have to talk to you,” she said, lowering her gaze.

I looked at her closely, expectantly. She raised her face to look at me. I could see sadness in her eyes, but above all, a lot of determination.

“Mister Alastor, I want you to understand something: I am not afraid of you,” she said firmly.

I was surprised by the clarity of her words. The way she said it to me, looking me in the eye, without hesitation.

“Everything you have done since I have known you is nothing more than being yourself,” she continued, “You have never hurt me, you accepted me into your home, and taught me to be much more independent. I think since I was a child, I have not felt so happy, and I am no longer afraid of being myself. It encourages me to sing and do what I like and it fills my heart.”

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

“And I don't want to lose that,” she said, looking at me again.

I couldn't help blinking from her impression. I chuckled softly.

“Sweetheart, my intention has never been that things become tense at home,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

I took one of her locks and played with it between my fingers.

“Your soul is rare and rich to the wraiths,” I said, “but an assorted endowment of human souls makes up for it quite well.”

I smirked at her.

“You can't blame me for the impression it gave me to know that and see everything it hid,” she said with a frown.

“Certainly,” I said, without giving it much importance.

“And they almost took me to devour my soul,” she said, annoyed.

“Let us point out that it was out of your own curiosity,” I said letting go of her hair.

“There are still things I have to ask you.”

“And I will answer them as I see fit,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

She was angry. Adorably angry. And I was infinitely pleased to see her frown.

I leaned into her face and stroked her cheek.

“Make no mistake that I will continue my clandestine activities, my dear Charlotte,” I said, squinting, “It's a social work that I'm passionate about.”

She pursed her lips before continuing.

“What you do with your work as The Vigilante... I will keep it a secret,” she said with resignation.

“I didn't suspect otherwise for a second,” I said, widening my smile.

She twisted her hands and bit her lip.

“Being The Vigilante is a solitary task,” I told her.

“It doesn't have to be... after all, you became The Vigilante to protect me,” she said, disgruntled.

“I had no intention of you finding out. It isn’t information that everyone could handle without wanting to take advantage of it.”

She seemed offended by my assertion.

“As your servant I must see to it that your activities remain anonymous, sir,” she said cautiously, “My sense of duty to you is very strong. I will see that no one else knows.”

Frowning, she dipped her lower lip.

“Despite being only your employee, I care a lot about you,” she concluded.

I pushed the lock of hair behind her ear. I raised her chin with my hand.

“Oh sweetheart, you're already part of my family,” I said, smiling broadly.

She blinked at my conviction and smirked at me. Then she gave a little laugh.

“Thank you, Mister Alastor,” she said happily.

I felt the tension ease between us. That armor Charlotte had put on seemed to detach from her, and I felt a rush of calm in my chest. Her smile was sincere. Her eyes conveyed enthusiasm again. Things were finally back in balance. Charlotte was the same again, and her splendid energy began to radiate from her anew.

“I missed talking to you,” she said suddenly.

“The truth is, monologues burn out after a while,” I agreed.

She laughed. And then she smiled.

“I know I'm still getting used to the idea. But... despite everything, I can assure you that I like living with you.”

I widened my eyes at the confession. She liked to share her life with me despite everything.

I acted without thinking. I dropped the umbrella from my hand. I took Charlotte by the shoulders and leaned down to brush my lips with hers. The kiss was interrupted halfway through, but neither of us moved. Our breaths mixed, our noses brushed, even without our mouths ending together. The electricity in that subtle contact was overwhelming. When I got the notion back of what I was doing, I picked up the umbrella and stood up straight. I gave her the best smile I could and cleared my throat.

“So... what will you do with that plate?” I asked fluently.

Her cheeks were flushed and her expression was one of utter stupefaction. She gave a sudden start. She didn't seem to dare ask what had just happened, and I would avoid any questions about it.

“Oh, um…” she mused.

She took the old plate and put it back into the broken grave.

“I suppose you are right. That plate lies,” she said seriously.

“I'm not usually wrong,” I said arrogantly.

She turned to look at me and sighed with exhaustion, a half smile.

“Shall we go home, sweetheart?” I said, offering my arm.

She grabbed onto my elbow and we set off. We left the mausoleum and took care to put the padlock back in its place. It was drizzling faintly and I pushed the umbrella to protect us from the water.

We walked the cobbled path of the cemetery, heading towards the exit. Many people began to withdraw, leaving their flower offerings at their respective graves.

Charlotte was still crestfallen. I was afraid I had frightened her by my outburst. She looked around to verify that we were alone before speaking.

“Mister Alastor?” she said shyly.

“Yes, dear?”

“How do you never get home with blood on your clothes?” she said thoughtfully, “Killing someone should leave you…”

“Completely soaked?” I ended the sentence for her.

She nodded with reservation.

In response, I handed her the umbrella, took a knife from my bag, and cut my finger. Ignoring Charlotte's shocked face, I dropped a couple of drops onto my new coat.

“You can clean human blood that simply, my dear.”

I snapped my fingers and the droplets evaporated. It seems that they had never dirtied the fabric. Charlotte was fascinated.

“It is a simple spell. If not for this, I would have had a lot of trouble walking around the city totally stained red after each murder.”

I laughed out loud.

“Only with human blood?” she said, intrigued.

“That’s the way it is.”

She snorted.

“I wish it worked with deer blood. That way you wouldn't have to soak your clothes when you go hunting.”

I laughed heartily.

“It would be very useful, certainly. But no. It only cleanses human blood.”

We hit the street and headed for the tram. The loneliness of the streets, a product of the rain, allowed us to speak in a low voice without attracting attention.

“And do you use the same taxidermy knives on your victims?”

“Only the one I use for skinning. It has a very good sheet.”

“And how do you find them if they are fugitives? Not even the police have been able to locate them.”

“It's easy, if you ask the same shadows.”

“And really, no one has ever seen you? That’s incredible!” she said, amazed.

“Oh, you flatter me too much, dear.”

She had an insatiable curiosity and I had no hesitation in answering all her questions. I felt strangely comfortable. I had never been interested in sharing these kinds of details with someone, but talking to Charlotte gave a new approach to things.

Charlotte's quick acceptance of my activities intrigued me. To some extent, I felt that she was excited at the idea of me killing criminals. As a kind of city hero. Even despite putting myself in danger at first, and the fact that I was constant in my murders to save her from the wraiths.

The tram ride was suffocating and crowded. Those who had left and were caught in the drizzle had hurried to get home later. I kept Charlotte close to me the whole time.

We soon were walking home through the woods. The drizzle had stopped and the road was muddy. I suggested that Charlotte hold on to my arm, in case she could slip.

“I will be honest with you, my dear. I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me again after knowing what I do,” I said.

She looked at me with a frown. A cold wind moved our coats.

“It's hard to get used to it, really,” she confessed, “but after today, I think I see it from a different perspective.”

I looked at her imploringly.

“The victims of the executed criminals, sir, were not the only ones who were injured. And I try to put myself in the shoes of the people that you helped.”

She closed her hand a little more on my arm.

“It is not only the victim of that murderer or abuser who is affected, but their whole family. Parents, siblings, friends, all whose hands are tied because justice is slow and limited. And in the end, those who commit crimes remain unpunished, to continue doing wrong. Living in total freedom and wanting to continue perpetrating more horrendous crimes against innocents.”

She pursed her lips.

“But then there is The Vigilante. A person who executes men and women who live outside the law, and believe they have gotten away with it. The Vigilante hunts them down and comes in the name of the fallen innocents. That gives peace of mind to those who mourn their dead.”

I smiled.

“Your description makes me sound like a villain in a novel,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

She was silent, looking at the road before answering.

“But even though you murder thugs for selfish reasons, the good that you do to the community and to all involved, as a consequence of that, is superior. And judging you for that would be... unfair.”

“You don't have to flatter my work so much, dear,” I said, amused, “Remember the reason why I started all this.”

“To protect me,” she determined.

I was silent. The overwhelming truth, accepted by her, completely strained me.

“I believe in second chances,” she said firmly.

I chuckled.

“Are you giving me a second chance?” I said maliciously.

“Well, if you are not interested…” she said, appearing innocent, while looking at her nails with indifference.

I laughed. Sincerely and freshly.

Oh, this girl.

“Let me think about it,” I said, catching my breath.

She smiled with resignation.

I was beginning to feel better. To feel Charlotte's essence again without that overwhelming distance, was really pleasant.

We finally got home. We left our shoes and wet coats on a chair in front of the fireplace. Charlotte put some logs on it and with a snap I lit it.

“I think I can get used to that,” she said with a shy smile.

I chuckled.

We prepared a quick stew for lunch, and when we sat down to eat, we talked in a fluid and natural way. And I felt calm. With the peace that talking to her without distances gave me, everything seemed to be back to normal.

However, I still had a few urgent matters to attend to.

We finished eating and Charlotte started washing dishes. I watched her do her work while humming. Something she hadn’t done in the past days.

I stood up.

“Sweetheart, there is something we have to do to make our little secret a reality,” I said, hands behind my back.

“What is it about?” she said curiously, while drying her hands.

“Come with me to the living room,” I ordered.

She followed me obediently.

“Wait here.”

I went to my study, striding. I took a notebook, an envelope, and a graphite pencil from my desk.

Charlotte was still standing and with a wave of my hand, I invited her to sit down. We settled on the two-seater sofa, and I handed her the notebook and pencil.

“This is very simple, darling,” I said confidently, “You should only write down a simple contract where you swear never to tell anyone about my just exterminations and my activities with the hereafter.”

I smiled widely at her and she looked at the paper.

“Is it necessary, Mister Alastor?” she said, hurt, “I wouldn't imagine telling anyone about... what you do.”

“Oh, I'm sure there is no malintention involved, my sweet Charlotte,” I said, touching the tip of her nose, “but this is only as a precaution. If they ever question you, you will be able to lie in the most sincere ignorance on the subject.”

She seemed to ponder it for a few moments, before looking at me.

“Well... that seems fair enough to me,” she concluded.

I smiled. She wrote on the pad, tore the sheet, and handed it to me. I read carefully:

“I, Charlotte Magne, solemnly swear never to disclose the identity of Mister Alastor as The Vigilante, or his dealings with the afterlife.”

“That will suffice,” I said, satisfied.

I folded the sheet and put it in the envelope. Then I handed it to her.

“It's almost ready. Only one detail is missing.”

I pulled out my favorite knife from the inside pocket of my vest and pulled it out of its sheath. Charlotte tensed immediately. I couldn't help but chuckle.

I held out the knife and she looked at me confused.

“You have to cut your tongue, my dear,” I explained, “Then, with the blood that comes out, you must seal the envelope, and that's it.”

She pursed her lips and took the knife with trembling hands.

“Is this truly necessary...?” she tried to protest.

“Only if you want the spell to work,” I said sarcastically.

She looked at the knife with determination and inhaled deeply, to gain courage. She stuck out her tongue and buried the sharp point in it. Charlotte twitched, her face in pain, but didn't shut her mouth. From the wound, blood ran freely down her tongue, until it combined with her saliva.

Seeing her blood shook me inside, surprisingly. An intense desire to try it invaded me, like a crazy and powerful instinct. A familiar and hot throbbing began to cause discomfort in my crotch. That kind of bulge had surprised me quite often lately, and the only constant on all those occasions was Charlotte's presence.

When she cut her finger while preparing the vegetables. Seeing her playing the piano with dexterous hands, leaving the skin of her neck and shoulders exposed in her tight red dress. The burning kiss she gave me nights ago, confusing me with some impure reverie, which woke up her latent femininity. Or the recent sight of Charlotte in her nightgown, and the glorious, burning touch of her blood stained fingers as she healed my wounds. Her eyes screamed, pleading, longing to be taken that time. Totally at my mercy. And had it not been for my deplorable condition at the time, I would have succumbed to her prayer.

It was increasingly difficult to resist. I almost gave up on her in a fit, at the Magne Mausoleum.

I swallowed hard. I clenched my fists tightly and dug my nails into my palms. My derailed thoughts were exposing me.

She took the envelope and soaked the seal in her blood. Then she closed it. The faded color of crimson blurred the white of the paper. Charlotte handed it to me and I smiled at her. I tossed the envelope into the air and it was consumed in flames until it left nothing but ashes.

“Done, sweetheart,” I said, “Our secret is safe. Just try not to dig into what you don't want to know again.”

I laughed out loud and she smiled resignedly.

“It wasn't that bad, was it?” I said, smiling.

She just shook her head. She looked at me with expectant eyes and tight lips.

I raised an eyebrow.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” I said maliciously.

She frowned in annoyance.

“Oh. It hurts."

She nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.

Then I saw it. The blood from her recent cut had drained and escaped from her mouth. Her parted lips seemed to be painted in the most exquisite shade of red I had ever seen. I could see part of her teeth, also stained with carmine. Guided by curiosity, I brought my thumb close to her lips, withdrew a few red drops, and brought them to my mouth. She widened her eyes in surprise and her cheeks reddened. The salty taste of her blood was intense, electrifying, like an addictive ambrosia. I ran my thumb back through her mouth and licked up the blood I'd collected.

I looked at Charlotte. She had her fists clenched tightly in her lap, clutching the skirt of her dress. She was tense and her eyes were bright. She was breathing heavily. Oh my sweet Charlotte. You were always an open book to me. I wanted to see what kinds of other faces you could make. What other kinds of gestures and sounds could I generate in you. I raised her chin with my hand and moved closer to her face. I narrowed my eyes at her and she didn't move.

The smell of blood from her mouth hit my nose. I stuck out my tongue and dragged the tip all over her bottom lip. She trembled at the wet touch, but didn't move away. I continued my inspection with more confidence. I ran my tongue over her upper lip. The salinity of her blood and the sweetness of her saliva began to mix. I was not satisfied yet. I delved a little deeper. I slid my hands down her cheeks and pulled her close to me, sticking my lips to hers. My tongue made its way through her mouth until it collided with hers. I didn't stop looking at her expressions at any moment.

She was nervous, her eyes told me. But she looked at me, longing and devoted. Delivering herself to my progress. I moved my tongue, brushing hers, in an insidious and wet frolicking. A few moments passed before she reciprocated with timid touches, which answered my call. She was tickling me. I ran the tip of my tongue over the wound, which was closing. I put one of my hands firmly on the nape of her neck to prevent her from walking away. She closed her eyes and just gave herself up. I invaded her mouth openly. I took advantage of licking all the remnants of blood that remained inside. They were minutes of deep investigation, where the air was beginning to lack and our mouths were getting hungrier and hungrier.

I moved away from her a little, breathing hard, but aware of how satisfying it had been. She was still with her mouth ajar, her eyes glassy and her cheeks red. I felt lost looking at her. Without much thought, I stroked her cheekbone with my thumb, awkwardly.

What did I want from her? What was that desperate need to want to have her so close to me, that the distance between us did not exist?

Kissing her was not in my plans. Frankly, meeting her had not been in my plans. I thought I had more or less traced life, to make it as manageable at my mercy and whim. By making the right decisions, I would have everything under control. But little by little, that plan was distorted and let out of its lane by that woman with whom I liked to share my days. And now, she was there in front of me, imploring me to release what had long been repressed by me.

Carried away by emotion and lust, I kissed her again. I kissed her many times on the lips, and she kissed me back, with enthusiasm. I kept the grip of her face firmly in my hands. They were almost desperate, urgent kisses, accumulated in time. I kissed her lips, her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks. And Charlotte did the same. She kissed my face vigorously, adoringly, cradling my cheeks. I diverted my kisses to her neck, where she gave a deep and loud moan. I held her tight, tucked my nose under her jaw, and inhaled the natural scent of her skin, mixed with her sweat. I opened my mouth and brought my tongue to her jugular. She winced and dared to put her hands on my back. As I kissed her neck, she clung to the fabric of my jacket.

The hardness of my erection was reaching painful limits. I had to do something with it. My body was screaming at me that I needed to join hers. I slipped my hand down her back and lowered the clasps on her dress. She moaned when her front was exposed, only salvaged by her new brassiere. In an innate gesture, she tried to cover herself, but I firmly withdrew her hands and pushed her down to lie on the couch, straddling her. I took the knife with which the wound had been made on her tongue. I slid the sharp blade underneath the central junction of the brassiere, between both breasts, and left it there. Then, she looked at me. There was no fear in her gaze. It was pure expectation. We were both breathing hard.

With the last glimpse of sanity and modesty that I had left, I was able to speak.

“We won't do anything you don't want to do, Charlotte,” I said, widening my smile.

She blinked in surprise and smiled knowingly at me.

“I like danger, Mister Alastor,” she whispered confidently.

That single phrase triggered it all, with no return. With a single tug I cut the center of her new undergarment. Her breasts were freed from that damn jail. I could see them carefully. Smooth, round, white, and exposed. It was very different from the first time I saw them in that forest; where they had generated discomfort, instead of the burning desire to touch them.

Charlotte was looking at me quietly, impatient and dedicated. Her goddess body was still and exposed. Consenting to be snatched from her pedestal by a sinner.

Was there really room for words when we had come to tacit agreement with our actions?

In a quick motion, I got on top of her and started sucking on her nipples. She immediately began to moan without modesty and, far from bothering me, she encouraged me to continue. I kissed, bit, scratched, squeezed, and sucked on her breasts. Before, they had been completely white; now, they had slight reddish marks that indicated my step. But Charlotte only sighed with pleasure. She tangled her fingers in my hair, imploring me not to stop.

I kissed her again on the lips. Wild and clumsy. Our lack of experience was offset by our enthusiasm. She struggled with the buttons on my vest and shirt. I brought one of my hands down and stroked the length of her stocking-wrapped legs up to her thighs. I massaged her firm buttocks with open palms, squeezing them, massaging them vigorously, and enjoying the softness of her youth. I dug my nails into her flesh, and without looking at it, I knew I had left a reddish mark. Charlotte gasped with delight and pain.

She managed to remove my buttons from my shirt halfway and hugged me, possessive and hungry. Kissing, licking and sucking on my neck and chest. The mixture of the recent pain and her aroma, made me let out a sigh of pleasure.

I felt that I had been very patient. An admirable willpower for not having done that before. But knowing that she was true to me, even now, had overwhelmed me. She had given me the little push I needed to take what she had offered me for so long. With every loaded look, every blush, every hip movement and every song, she had been inviting me to touch her body unscrupulously, and I had been avoiding her.

I stroked her cheekbones hard with my thumbs, while I kept kissing her. I bit her lips, filling me with her breath.

She was not an expert on the subject, but she knew well where she had to go. I pulled her skirt up to her waist and looked at her new scarlet underwear. I looked at Charlotte and her face was completely red. She covered her mouth with her hand. And for a moment, she seemed embarrassed by what we were doing. But before I reached remorse, I lowered my face to the height of her panties and touched her private area with my finger, over the fabric. Damp. Completely soaked. Guided by curiosity and excitement, I grabbed her panties and yanked them down her legs until they were pulled back and dropped to the side of the sofa. Charlotte was looking at me embarrassed, but expectant.

I spread her knees and saw her. Her pink vagina and blonde curls. It was amazing how so many men whined and even committed heinous acts, just to get to that part of a woman. But in my case, I was never interested in that morbid taste, almost retrograded because of the number of women that drank from it and showed it off with their peers. Before Charlotte came into my life, carnal pleasures were no concern for me. But there I was, gazing adoringly at that forbidden, wet, lewd part of my sweet Charlotte.

I leaned over her and stuck my tongue out. Charlotte immediately winced and gasped. I licked vigorously and openly. I put my hands on her thighs and spread them firmly, so that the spasms in her legs would not interrupt me in my work. I was especially interested in a small bump that generated violent jolts in Charlotte, when I ran my tongue over it. I experimented a little more with her. Using my two thumbs, I pulled a little more of the soft flesh around her and attacked her with brutal licks.

It was entertaining doing that. Delighting in that rare and exquisite flavor. Holding Charlotte's thighs, to prevent any interruption, until Charlotte's moans turned to shameless screams. She began to writhe with more violence.

“I... Mister Alastor. Something... Something is coming... I…, ” she tried to say, between gasps.

At that moment, her back arched and she bit her forearm to lessen the powerful cry of glory that came from her throat. It was a cry of pure victory. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably from the spasms. I kept licking that blessed flesh button that had made Charlotte scream so wonderfully. More liquid began to flow from her vagina, which I licked with longing and with pleasure.

Oh, the ambrosia of a goddess.

When she stopped moving, I looked up. Charlotte looked at me with glassy eyes, flushed, and her mouth dropped open. She was breathing heavily, as if she had run a marathon. Her gaze was still full of desire. I got up to her and kissed her, the recent taste of herself in my mouth. She attacked my mouth with her tongue, fiercely, and took my cheeks harshly. Just like that kiss stolen in the hallway nights ago.

But there was something that disconnected me from reality. A simple act that I did not know she would dare to do: she bit me lip hard on my lip. The sting made me react in a rapturous and bestial way.

I looked at her for half a second, before delving deeper into the rampant kiss. Then, I stood up, unbuckled my belt, and quickly pulled down my pant’s fly. I stopped before lowering my underwear. Charlotte was looking at me expectantly. Eager. Excited. I took that as inspiration and lowered my boxer shorts.

Charlotte opened her eyes in surprise and embarrassment. That she did not stop looking at my virile member caused me a certain irrational and primal satisfaction. I took her hand and guided her to touch it. Her soft hands shyly squeezed the circumference of my penis. She seemed fascinated by the throbbing, warm solidity of the body. She stared in fascination at the wet, exposed head at the retracted foreskin.

I looked at her face with emotion, as I began to move my hand over hers, giving her permission to continue with the same rhythm. Her gentle touch made me feel exposed, at her mercy, as waves of pleasure came to me every time she pumped. I had to lean against the back of the chair and threw my head back, while Charlotte continued impassively in her work.

She took courage, making more and more confident movements, not caring that the palm of her hand was beginning to be stained with semen, which came out from the tip. And I was starting to go crazy at that new and shocking feeling.

Soon, I felt like I was at a dangerous limit. There was something that needed to come out.

I took Charlotte's hand, and pulled it away in a quick movement. I looked at her, breathing hard, for a few moments. She looked upset. I had interrupted her in her homework, and she was as eager to help as ever. She managed to look completely adorable even in such a situation.

So, I took her legs and lifted them up, leaving her wet pussy exposed. I took my penis and with some difficulty, put it into position. I took one last look at her blushing and lustful face.

I pushed into her. Tearing, making my way down her narrow, wet, warm hallway, feeling the warm blood of her virginity staining my member. I spread her legs a little and saw our union. Her bright, glorious red blood flowed freely from her most sacred area, now desecrated. Its purity had been taken from me. I looked at Charlotte. I saw pain in her tense expression. But not only pain. There was pleasure of the purest and shameless. With an almost animal despair that invaded us, to unite our bodies. That vision disconnected the last glimpse of rationality that I had left, and my madness for it was manifested.

With a beastly impulse, I began to ram her. Mercilessly and awkwardly, as I found my rhythm. Charlotte gasped with every hit of my hips. Her breasts swaying to the beat. I wanted to continue. I wanted to feel all of her. Nothing mattered in that state of frenzy. I was amazed at how she squeezed my penis, her legs hugging my waist, her blood combined with her intense fluids, without caring about staining the sofa. Hearing her cries of supplication, her indecent and obscene gasps in my ear. She asked me not to stop. Those sounds were a sweet and wild melody that only I had the right to hear from her. My own pain when feeling her nails digging into my back, while she hugged me tightly, wanting to tighten her breasts to my bare chest, urged me to continue. Everything was perfect.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. And knowing what was coming, I quickly pulled my member out of her and gasped and brutally screamed. My body stirred in a fantastic, hot, tingling, liberating shudder that clouded my thoughts, destroying all composure. I let my powerful orgasm flow, shamelessly, over Charlotte. Staining her breasts, her belly, and her red dress with my cum.

It took me a few moments to catch my breath. If this was the feeling that I had been forbidden for having ignored the signals that Charlotte had sent me for several months, I should severely reproach myself. I felt I had wasted so much time.

I smiled more widely. I leaned into her and brushed a lock of hair from her sweaty forehead. I pressed my forehead to hers and we looked at each other.

“I'm still not satisfied, darling,” I whispered to her.

Still breathing hard, she smiled back at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> I FINISHED. I FINALLY FINISHED THE CHAPTER.
> 
> Alastor, you are an HDP so difficult to investigate XD
> 
> There you are. Enjoy it uwu
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> My twitter:  
> @ AngelusM19


	12. A child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the days yet to come.

Mister Alastor's soft breathing tickled the top of my head. I moved a little and looked at his face, lovingly. It was incredible that, still asleep, he could keep a slight smile on his lips. I sighed happily. I liked to watch him sleep. It was something that, for a long time, I had wanted to admire. Despite living two years across the hall, I never had a chance to witness it.

It was Friday morning and my fifth night sleeping with him. Since Sunday, I had not gone to sleep in my own room. The scent on Mister Alastor's bed was wonderful. It had something special that made me feel full and protected. I moved closer to his body, pressing my bare breasts against his warm torso, and smiled. I felt so comfortable and warm huddled next to him, I didn't want to think that the alarm would soon sound, announcing a new day. Ever since we started sharing the bed, I hadn't woken up again with that overwhelming feeling of cold that lingered throughout the day.

I started to think a bit about how things had subtly gotten to this point. It had been a strange week, new and exciting. I closed my eyes to delight in my memories of days ago.

***

The previous Saturday, upon returning from the cemetery and after closing the pact of silence with a spell, Mister Alastor kissed me, passionately and voraciously. He hadn’t dared to in my family mausoleum, and it was as I had only imagined it in my most shameless thoughts. It had been a kiss filled with longing, hot and wet, with the taste of my blood prevailing in our mouths. Everything was new, dizzying, exciting. I let myself be loved by his hands and his mouth. He stroked me almost desperately, and I kissed his face fervently, wishing that my adoration for him was clear.

It was a surprise when he had unzipped the dress and laid me down on the sofa, and I couldn't help but be dumbfounded. Were my prayers really heard? Did he really want to do something so intimate with me, something for which I had been secretly waiting?

I was nervous. As much as I had longed for something like that, my nerves began to fill me with doubts. Would I live up to his expectations? Would he like my scarred body? The scars looked exciting on him, however, on a woman's body, it couldn't have been attractive.

But, when he took out the knife and put it on the union of my bra, I felt a powerful emotion that invaded me and dispelled my insecurities. An almost uncontrollable desire and longing for him spread throughout my body. I was completely motivated by love and an intense hunger to touch his skin. The vision of my beloved Mister Alastor, getting rid of the composure he cared to maintain on a daily basis, with a look of desire that was bordering insane... gasping and anxious. It was like the vision of an imposing and irresistible demon.

We didn’t move. I felt the icy blade of the knife, dangerously close to my skin, as he asked my permission to cut my bra.

“We won't do anything you don't want to do, Charlotte,” he said, widening his smile.

I was so moved by his words. He kept thinking about my consent, even though he was much stronger than me, and he could have done it by force without any problems. I couldn't say no. I didn't want to say no. I had wished for too long to be with him, and I wouldn't waste this opportunity.

“I like danger, Mister Alastor,” I whispered with confidence and a smile.

Immediately, he cut the bra. The release of my breasts was majestic. Not even in my most daring dreams did I imagine him so passionate. I felt wonderful. Loved. Desired. I thought I couldn't feel more fullness than seeing him biting and kissing my breasts, but it was nothing compared to when he removed my panties and I felt the viscosity of his tongue against my most intimate area. What he made me feel was something new, powerful, to the point where it scared me. I didn't think that I could feel more pleasure than that, but I was wrong. It had only been a couple of minutes since he started his work, when I started to feel that something was coming, like a ravenous and devastating fire that spread throughout my body. It was a glorious sensation that flooded me and strained my back. Every rational thought I had clouded over, weakened my legs, and made me scream and writhe in the waves of pleasure that came to me. When that brief but intense sensation ended, I gasped. I didn't know what that had been, but I loved it. It had been so liberating and satisfying, I was sure it must have a name.

But things had not ended there. Oh no. They were just beginning.

I could see it. His nervousness, his eagerness to keep going. He showed me his erection, just before hesitating on whether to release it from his underwear. It was fascinating. My curiosity was greater than how self-conscious I was. I had seen that part of men only in dad’s anatomy picture books, and it was very helpful to secretly read the novels of my Aunt Magda, during my adolescence. She owned pink-themed books like “Wuthering Heights” and “Pride and Prejudice,” but she also had controversial titles like “Lady Chatterley's Lover” and “A Flea's Autobiography,” which she jealously kept on an old bookshelf so my uncle wouldn't find them. But, I knew where they were. Based on what I had read, I was able to draw my conclusions, and had a basic understanding of it. I knew that his penis should enter me, and I knew that it would be pleasant for both of us. He took my hand and invited me to touch it. Lovingly, knowing it was delicate, I kept a steady rhythm, delighting in the wonderful sounds he made, a clear sign that he liked it.

Finally, he interrupted me in my work, and I looked at him, annoyed. He leaned towards me. The time had come. I was patient, allowing him to settle in, and make him feel safe to start. I had decided that he would be the only one I would allow to do this act. I kept my legs open, welcoming him to strip me of my chastity. And so, he did. He entered me, tearing away my virginity in one movement. I was being completely invaded by him, as he looked at me longingly. That had been incredible, narrow and painful. I stroked his back and kissed the scars on his chest.

At first, I will not deny that it was uncomfortable, but the pain of having him inside began to lessen gradually when he took a rhythm. I was elated as he grabbed my buttocks possessively, while he charged at me from behind. I wanted to be his with all my being. I hugged him, whispering in his ear not to stop. Then, shortly after, he pulled away from me and gasped, almost like the growl of a beast. His face had the expression of a king's triumphal climax. It was then that he stained my body with what he later explained to me was his semen, and that if he released that into me, he could get me pregnant. His decision seemed quite wise to me.

As I watched him recover, for a damn second I felt terrified. I thought he would stand up, fix his clothes, and pretend nothing had ever happened. But how wrong I was.

He leaned towards me and pressed his forehead to mine, looking at me tenderly.

“I'm still not satisfied, darling,” he had whispered to me.

And that sentence alone was the beginning of several intense days.

That Saturday afternoon we had sex almost without stopping. We had moved to his room, for convenience. I learned things about myself and things about him that I would never have imagined in those hours of passion. He liked being dominant, and I liked that. Knowing what he could do and undo in me as much as he wanted seemed to delight him. Experimenting postures, reaching new levels of pleasure, which I had never been able to imagine. I discovered that the pain limited the territory of pleasure, and that he liked to hit my buttocks while filling me, and I loved that. Feeling the need to touch each other, searching for the places that could make us moan. Oh, his moans of pleasure. It made me feel so powerful knowing that I could make him generate those sounds. Especially as I enjoyed a weak point that I found: his ears. They were very sensitive. He loved to be stroked and when I whispered in his ear. That drove him crazy.

We finished when the sun had already gone down. Neither of us thought about dinner. Mister Alastor fell asleep, already exhausted. I looked at him fondly, amazed at how that man had made me feel. I kissed his forehead and left his room. I didn't want to be pushy or make him uncomfortable when he woke up next to me.

I went back to my own room. I settled into my bed, naked, exhausted but happy. I was too tired to put on my pajamas.

I woke up very early on Sunday, and I knew immediately that nothing I had done was a dream. My tiredness manifested itself with muscle pain. My nakedness, the marks of the nails and red hickeys with purple tints on my skin, reminded me of the lust of our experience the day before. I felt a strange mixture of body exhaustion and satisfaction.

It really had happened! I had really been intimate with Mister Alastor! How should I speak to him? Would everything follow as if nothing had happened, or would something change between us?

With my head in a mess, I went to take a bath before going to make breakfast. The powerful combined scent of his fluids and mine was hard to ignore.

While I was in the water, I was able to think calmly. What would happen if when I saw him at breakfast, he excused himself for what had happened between us? Could I live quietly ignoring everything we had experienced the day before? And now that I wasn't a virgin, did that mean the spirits would have less interest in my soul?

Without reaching a satisfactory conclusion, I got dressed and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. As I put on my apron, I heard the sound of Mister Alastor's footsteps on the second floor. He was already awake. My stomach flipped. I had to take a few breaths before concentrating on setting the table again.

I was attentive to any noise, until I finally heard him return to his room after leaving the bathroom. I needed to calm down, so I went to turn on the radio. I went through several stations. Some of them were just white noise, due to Sunday hours, but I got to one that was broadcasting. I went back to the kitchen, listening to some ads for detergent and fashionable men’s clothing. After a couple of minutes “You Are the Cream of My Coffee” started playing.

The music calmed me down as I started toasting the bread, and I couldn't help but start humming the tune. Despite my nerves, I started to sing.

**You have a great way  
An up-to-date way  
Of telling me you love me  
It gives me such a thrill  
I know it always will**

**My head is turning  
And just from learning  
Your estimation of me  
And as for you, I'll say  
I feel the self same way**

I took the bread out of the toaster, still shaking my hips, and put them on a plate.

**You're the cream in my coffee  
You're the salt in my stew  
You will always be my necessity  
I'd be lost without you**

**You're the starch in my collar  
You're the lace in my shoe  
You will always be my necessity  
I'd be lost without you**

I turned to put the plate of bread on the table and saw Mister Alastor, leaning against the door frame, smiling knowingly and starting to sing the next stanza.

**Most men tell love tales  
And each phrase dovetails  
You've heard each known way  
This way is my own way**

He reached out and took my hand to make me turn and drop onto his arm. I laughed.

**You're the sail of my love boat  
You're the captain and crew  
You'll always be my necessity  
I'd be lost without you**

We began an impromptu dance in the kitchen, the laughter spontaneous between the two of us. He continued to dance with me around the table in a playful waltz. When the chorus was repeated, we started singing in duet.

**You are the cream in my coffee  
And you are the salt in my stew  
You will always be my necessity  
I'd be lost without you**

He gave me a couple of turns, still smiling.

**You are the starch in my collar  
And you are the lace in my shoe  
You will always be my necessity  
Oh, I'm wild about you**

**You give life savor  
Bring out its flavor  
So this is clear, dear  
You're my worcestershire**

**You're the sail of my love boat  
You're the captain and crew  
You will always be my necessity  
I'd be lost without you**

When the melody was finished, we stopped, and I smiled at him.

“Good morning, darling,” he said, smiling.

“Good morning, Mister Alastor,” I replied.

“Did you rest well?”

“A little. The truth is, my body still hurts,” I said, blushing and taking off my apron.

“Hm…” he muttered, interested, sitting at the head of the table.

“And you?” I asked him, pouring hot water in the cups.

“Great, my dear,” he said mischievously, putting his chin on his hand, “I don't think I've ever felt so satisfied when I woke up.”

I blushed to my ears and sat down.

“Glad to hear it, sir,” I said, putting sugar in my coffee.

I heard him chuckle. He looked at me closely while I stirred my coffee.

“What happened to yesterday's boldness, honey?” he said insidiously.

I pursed my lips. Was he teasing me?

“I guess that certain Charlotte is still asleep,” I said with a shy smile.

He laughed and I relaxed a little.

“By the way, since we didn't go to the market yesterday, we have to go today, or we'll run out of supplies for the week,” he said more cheerfully.

“We had to go back earlier, because of the rain,” I agreed.

“Blessed rain,” he said, and sipped his coffee, calmly.

I bit my bread, tense and a little upset. If his intention was to make me uncomfortable, he was succeeding. I peeked at him. He was looking at me with a mocking and mischievous expression. He really seemed to enjoy making me nervous.

I took a deep breath and armed myself with patience. It would be a long day.

“Well then, we will do that,” he said, taking his toast, “I will help you with the cleaning, to finish quickly. After all, I was a co-star to the current mess in my room.”

I looked at him, annoyed by that comment, and he gave me his best smile, feigning innocence.

“Well, that way we will finish earlier,” I said haughtily.

He chuckled softly.

We finished breakfast and got ready to do the cleaning. With him helping me, things were easier. I washed the dishes while he went to feed the animals. In a short time, we had almost everything ready. I made my way to the living room with the fresh water for the daffodil vase, and after dusting off the bookcases and shelves, I set about tidying up the rest of the room. Only then I noticed something on the floor. I picked it up and saw, to my horror, that it was my underwear from the day before. I put it in my apron pocket, hoping Mr. Alastor hadn't noticed my shameless garment in the middle of the room.

Then, I went over to the sofa to fluff up the cushions. And that's when I saw the brown stain of dried blood mixed with our fluids on one of the cushions. We really had made a mess. I took the cushion with a blush, thinking of what to do to remove the stain. At that moment Mister Alastor entered the room. He approached me, snapped his fingers, and the stains disappeared from the fabric. There was no remnant of the dried fluids, nor of the blood.

“Oh... does it also work with other... human body fluids?” I said, amazed and nervous.

“The truth surprises me as much as it does you,” he said, putting his hand on his chin, “I’ve never had the need to clean more than blood.”

I settled the cushion in place. I couldn't help but think of our first time the day before. I shuddered when I remembered the intensity of the kisses and caresses on that sofa, and how it had made me feel.

“Any thoughts distracting you, darling?” I heard him say very close to my ear.

I was startled and turned to him nervously.

“Let's clean your room sir! We will be late for the market!” I said loudly, and headed up the stairs, broom in hand.

I scolded myself for rambling like that, but being honest, I didn't know how to approach the subject. It bothered me that he seemed to be having fun at the cost of my nervousness. Although, part of me was relieved. He did not deny the intercourse of the previous day, nor did he seem to feel any kind of remorse.

I sighed. I was ashamed to admit that I was not satisfied. I wanted to be intimate with him again. That strange need to want to touch him had turned into a burning thirst from desire. But I had to be cautious and suppress my enthusiasm. Pressing him could generate rejection on his part that I didn't want to risk.

I opened the window of the room, to ventilate it. A strange smell of our combined human essences was in the environment. The cold air would be enough to dissipate it. I took the blankets and stretched them to my feet, leaving the sheets exposed. I panicked when I saw the white sheets with dry spots of transparent liquid. After understanding male anatomy better, it made me uncomfortable to realize how Angel and his clients had stained the piano so much after their encounters.

Mister Alastor entered at that moment and stood next to me. Understanding the situation, he snapped his fingers and the stains evaporated.

“There seems to have been quite a bit of enthusiasm here yesterday,” he said subtly.

I huffed in frustration and shook the sheets.

“Is something bothering you, dear?” he teased.

“No,” I said dryly.

“Your expression tells me otherwise.”

I took a breath and looked at him.

“Actually, yes. I am a little nervous,” I confessed.

“Oh? Does it have something to do with the rampant encounter we had yesterday, my dear?” he said freely.

“It seems you just want to make fun of me…” I mumbled indignantly.

I really didn't know what was happening to me. I was extremely upset. I was thinking of nothing more than doing the same thing the day before, but at the same time I was ashamed that he was so calm about it. Was I the only one eager for more? Didn't he have that desperate desire to touch me, as I did? He was still so irritatingly relaxed and seemed to enjoy my discomfort at the subject, and that bothered me.

I hugged myself and sighed. He inspected me for a few moments before speaking.

“Sweetheart, if it's because you regret having…” he began, on a serious note.

I opened my eyes and turned to him, quickly.

“I don’t regret it!” I interrupted him, terrified, “I don't regret anything that happened yesterday, sir!”

He looked at me in surprise and delight. He put a hand to a lock of my hair and played with it.

“Then, what is the problem?” he asked.

I took a breath to calm down.

“I just don't know how to act now…” I said anxiously.

“You shouldn't be restless. We will continue with life as we do every day,” he said simply.

I bit my tongue. I did not want to continue like this. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to kiss him again whenever I wanted. Touch him when I felt like it. It was humiliating how I felt imprisoned by my instincts and my body, altering myself like a female in heat, without dignity for her modesty or principles.

“But, it would be very useful if you would tell me if you want an event like yesterday to happen in the near future…” he said with a serious look.

I looked at him with bright and determined eyes.

“Yes, I do!” I said firmly, “You don't know how much I want it to happen again.”

I felt it. His surprise at the sincerity of my words caught him off guard. I saw his smile tense. His posture changed and he cleared his throat, looking away. Then I understood it. That calm, and his jokes about what we had done were nothing more than a facade of how nervous he felt too. I was glad for that.

“You are... very direct, my darling,” he said uncomfortably.

I looked down, embarrassed.

“I have never done anything like this, nor have I felt like this before,” I said.

He was watching me closely.

“And I loved how you made me feel, Mister Alastor,” I admitted, “And I hope you felt good too.”

“Oh, you have no idea how pleasurable it was for me, darling,” he said, closing his eyes haughtily.

I smiled happily.

“I think it’s more than clear from the blood, but I was a virgin, sir,” I said, wringing my hands.

“It's not like I've done something like that before,” he said, lifting his shoulders.

“You neither...?” I said, looking at him in surprise.

“Correct,” he said.

I couldn't help but smile with delight. The tension I felt had been lightened by knowing he was as nervous as I was. I felt happy; I had been his first woman. Although thinking about it, it shouldn't surprise me. Despite his age, Mister Alastor was unreachable to everyone, all the time. And although he had a great circle of friends, he never invited anyone home, much less had suitors. And knowing that he had given me something so valuable made me feel special.

He hadn't told me that he loved me, and I really didn't need to know that at the time. I just wanted to continue being with him. Live my days by his side. Sharing laughter and songs. Feeling his burning touch on my skin. Always by his side.

“I loved everything that happened yesterday, sir,” I said, emboldened, “I really don't want it to be just once…”

From his expression, he agreed.

“I just hope you don't think badly of me now…” I mumbled.

“Why should I think ill of you?” he said with a note of disbelief.

I felt my blush spread.

“You are my boss, so I don't want you to think I'm a bad woman…” I said quietly.

He laughed out loud. He put a hand to his face, trying to lessen his laughter, but it took him a few moments to calm down. Then, he took me by the shoulders and looked at me. He seemed relieved.

“Oh, my dear, there is no way I could think of you like that,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

He released me and straightened up.

“Well! After things are in order here,” he said cheerfully, “It's time to go to the market!”

We made and tidied up the bed and then I picked up the clothes that had been lying on the floor since the previous day.

“I'll wait for you at the front door, darling,” he said cheerfully.

I went to the laundry room. I put the clothes in the basket and went down to the hall. He was waiting for me with my coat and a wicker basket.

We headed towards the tram. The characteristic cold after a rain was hanging in the air, along with the smell of damp earth. But I was happy, very close to Mister Alastor and holding his arm.

After a crowded tram ride, we arrived at the French Market. It was a place always full of movement and you could hear the calls of the vendors offering their products. People of different skin tones had their stalls with fruit, vegetables, seeds, spices, root tubers, and even small animals like chickens and rabbits. The smell, a result of the mixture of all that, was quite pungent and thick on the nose. But not everything was so picturesque; beggars abounded in their tattered rags, and children played barefoot between stalls, stealing fruit when given a chance.

We bought everything we needed to cook. The list included sugar, olive oil, onion, bell peppers, celery, and some spices like garlic, thyme, and bay leaf. I bought my hand lotion, to avoid skin wear when washing dishes and clothes. We bought two packages of sliced bread for the week.

In the atmosphere, the happy melody of “Please” by Bing Crosby was heard from the radio.

**Oh, Please  
Lend your little ear to my pleas  
Lend a ray of cheer to my pleas  
Tell me that you love me too  
Please  
Let me hold you tight in my arms  
I could find delight in your charms  
Every night my whole life through  
Your eyes reveal that you have the soul of  
An angel white as snow  
How long must I play the role of  
A gloomy Romeo?  
Oh, Please  
Say you're not intending to tease  
Speed that happy ending and please  
Tell me that you love me too**

**Your eyes reveal that you have the soul of  
An angel white as snow  
How long must I play the role of  
A gloomy Romeo?  
Oh, please  
Say you're not intending to tease  
Speed that happy ending and please  
Tell me that you love me too**

All our purchases were very fast. The only thing different was that the prices were a little higher than the previous weekend, which seemed strange to me.

“It's because of the drought,” Mister Alastor explained to me, “This year will be very bad for farmers.”

Once we left the market it was already noon. He invited me to lunch at a nearby cafeteria, to save time so that I would not have to cook when we got home. We both ate beef stew, willingly chatting about the recent news from the German-Polish Non-Aggression Treaty, which had been mentioned in the news a few days ago.

“Do you think that alliance will last, Mister Alastor?” I asked.

“Hitler is a pathetic little man, but he knows how to play his cards well,” he commented, “We will surely continue to hear a lot from him for a few years.”

Later, at dessert time, we laughed at the exorbitant value that some pieces of art had. I told him about the time I went to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, when I was still a child and my parents were still living.

“I ran, looking for her in the hallways and there she was. She was too small!” I exclaimed “Overrated nonsense! She had dead shark eyes. I traveled thousands of miles just to see her beautiful smile... and she was ugly!”

Mister Alastor spat out some of his coffee from the explosive laughter he had tried to contain. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, while still laughing.

“I can imagine that!” he managed to say, laughing.

“And no one could explain to me why everyone was so obsessed with it,” I continued with an exasperated smile, “Where were her eyebrows? And her face looked like that of a bloated corpse!”

He was still laughing very loudly. People looked at him reproachfully, but he seemed to care little. It took him a few moments to calm his laughter.

“Overrated nonsense, clearly,” he said, catching his breath.

I loved making him laugh (when it was my intention). I saw him compose himself with difficulty and he smiled at me. He took out another napkin and began to clean up the coffee he had spilled. Then he laid his chin on his hand and stared at me. I tensed in my place and touched my face, thinking that I had stained my face with apple pie.

“By the way, darling, I was thinking, maybe it's time for you to change your wardrobe,” he said fluently, “Clothes from fifteen years ago are not suitable for you.”

I didn’t expect that.

“Oh, but it's not something I urgently need. I am at home most of the time,” I said nervously, “And the truth is that I've already saved enough to buy shoes and dresses, only I haven't had time to go shopping.”

When Mister Alastor paid me, I always reluctantly received it. I always considered that everything he did for me was enough. He never charged me for living there, nor the food I consumed. The fact that he took care of me all the time, let me go out with him, sing and dance, share hobbies and laughter… all that seemed to me enough remuneration for what I did at home. But he insisted on paying me from the start.

“Now we have time,” he said.

“Now?” I said, terrified, “But I didn't bring my money and…”

“Oh, don't worry, I'll take care of that,” he said with a wide smile.

He stood up to pay what we had consumed, without giving me a chance to protest.

We left the restaurant shortly after. He had the wicker basket on one arm, and I was on the other. I bit my lip at seeing him walk so quietly. I really felt uncomfortable.

“Sir, when we get home, I will pay you everything you spend on me,” I said firmly.

He laughed.

“Oh, darling. This is a gift,” he said.

“I won´t feel comfortable if you pay…” I said apprehensively.

He approached my ear and whispered mischievously.

“I owe you this for cutting your new bra yesterday, dear.”

The blush spread across my face. He looked at me with a triumphant smile. There was no more to discuss, but there was a question that was in my head all day and I didn´t hesitate to ask.

“Mister Alastor...” I said shyly.

“Yes, dear?”

“Now that I´m not virgin… Have the spirits lost interest in me?”

He chuckled.

“Oh, my sweet Charlotte. You give too much importance to ‘that’ kind of purity.”

“But, isn't that kind of ‘purity’ what they meant?” I said confused.

“My dear, certainly, your physical virginity was something like a few extra touches of hot sauce in a good jambalaya. But, just because you no longer have it doesn't mean that your soul is not equally valuable to the demons that haunt you. You have many other attributes that make you appetizing.”

“So, they still want to devour my soul... That is not very encouraging,” I said wearily.

“Certainly, but I am still a threat to you,” he said maliciously, “There is more than one way you can corrupt someone.”

“What does that mean?” I said, frowning.

“This seems like a good place!” he suddenly exclaimed.

I looked up. It was a small women’s clothing store in the window, called “M&M” (and curiously, the sign had “+ B” written in it with a marker). Mister Alastor opened the door for me and let me in with an elegant gesture. The welcome bell rang.

“Welcome!” we heard someone say.

A pretty woman with cinnamon skin came to us. She was shorter than me, but her body was very harmonious, and she wore a black dress. She had prominent front teeth and a noticeable mole under her right eye.

“I’m Millie,” she said with a smile, “Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, this beautiful lady needs to buy some clothes that do justice to her beauty,” said Mister Alastor next to me, taking my hand.

“What a beautiful matrimony!” the woman said, delighted.

I was about to tell her we weren't married, but she enthusiastically took me to the fitting rooms.

“Come over here, sweetie,” she said cheerfully, “I think I have something you might like.”

She began to search between the dresses, deciding which garment was the best. At that moment another young man entered, with whitish blond hair and prominent freckles. He had an obviously tired face.

“Sweetie, how good of you to be here,” Millie said to him, “You weren't very rude to him, were you?”

“I sent him to buy donuts,” he replied, “He only left when I said he could come to dinner with us.”

“Oh, poor Blitz,” Millie said sadly, “He just wants to be part of a family, Moxxie.”

“But why does it have to be ours?” he sighed in frustration.

Millie walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh, baby. Could you give the gentleman something to read? I have a lot of work here,” she said lovingly.

Moxxie seemed to yield to Millie's attention and smiled. He went to a bookshelf and brought a couple of magazines to Mister Alastor, who had settled into a high-backed chair.

“Good afternoon, sir, I imagine you will be the judge of the lady's clothing,” Moxxie said, with resignation, “Millie takes her time choosing the right garment for her clients. I ask for a little patience.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Patience is a well-rewarded virtue,” Mister Alastor replied courteously.

It was a full hour of dress after dress. Millie paid special attention to finding the one that best suited me along with the shoes and accessories. The dresses were cotton, not like the silk and satin at Rosie's, but they were very comfortable and charming. I introduced myself to Mister Alastor with several alternative outfits and he always gave me approving looks and comments, praising me for how good I looked. I could not ignore the shudder generated by the fact that he was inspecting my body, very carefully, with his eyes. I had been trying to restrain my lascivious thoughts all day, but gradually it became more and more unbearable. However, I could swear I saw him shoot furtive glances while pretending to read the magazine so he could look at me from behind.

At the end of the modeling session, Millie went behind the counter with the clothes she had put on me and (according to her opinion more than mine) that would fit me well. She started to dial quickly on the cash register.

“This one looks wonderful, and this one matches your eyes, honey,” Millie said, putting the dresses on my arms.

“This one has such a fine skirt cut and this two-piece combination is perfect for going out. And here I put the pointy heels and low shoes. Earrings and bracelets. Oh, this necklace is on sale!”

“Wait a minute,” I said, panicking, “That's a lot! I just need a pair of dresses!”

I turned to see Mister Alastor, who had come to stand next to me, hands behind his back. He seemed to ponder the situation, and, for a moment, I felt that he would support me in my refusal.

“Perfect. We will take everything,” he said casually.

Millie smiled widely and kept adding. I looked at Mister Alastor in disbelief.

“But…!” I tried to protest.

He just smiled arrogantly at me.

“I can and I will, my dear,” he said.

He came up to my face and took my chin.

“Or can you prevent me from wanting to give you something?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

I frowned and crossed my arms. But I didn't say anything. On the one hand I was grateful and on the other, he knew how much it bothered me that he spent money on me. I took it as an incitement to try to annoy me and his satisfied expression confirmed it.

Millie giggled and looked at us with bright eyes.

“Awwww! I can see that you are very happy together,” she said, delighted.

“I'm here with the donuts!” We heard someone slamming the door behind the store.

“Blitz, we have clients!” Moxxie yelled, heading to meet the stranger.

“That would be $15 and 45 cents, sir,” Millie said urgently.

I twitched my face when I saw Mister Alastor pay and receive the bags.

“Shall we go, my dear?” he said, heading to pick up the wicker basket.

Just to show my annoyance, I went ahead and took the basket. He seemed amused and I followed him with my head down and annoyed until the exit. I heard Millie trying to calm Moxxie down, just before leaving the store.

“Well, everything on the list is done! I think we can go home now, dear,” he said nonchalantly.

I looked at him, disgusted.

“You didn't have to,” I said apprehensively, “You spent too much on me just to annoy me.”

He chuckled.

“My dear, you are wrong,” he said fluidly, “How could I force you to select from so many dresses that looked so wonderful on you? I just saved you the tedious task of choosing.”

I huffed

“Thank you,” I muttered, looking at the road.

“You're welcome, sweetheart,” he said.

One couldn't win against him when he had a goal in mind.

“I'm still firm in my position to pay you,” I said defiantly.

“And I will continue to reject that suggestion, darling,” he said maliciously.

We looked at each other for a few seconds in silence. I couldn't help but break eye contact to roll my eyes, with a half-smile. His way of showing his interest in things was quite particular.

“I can carry that basket if you wish,” he said.

“I´m alright, don’t worry,” I said with dignity.

However, after a short walk, I placed the basket on the floor to take a breather. Mister Alastor took it and offered me the bags with the dresses, which were lighter. I took them without arguing.

The tram ride was quick, and we got home, after a long walk and a talk about the next Mardi Gras. I liked that festival. We used to go there, my parents and I, when I was little. I even participated on an angel-themed float once. But after my uncle and aunt started taking care of me, I was never able to attend again. Only up until the previous year, when I had gone with Mister Alastor to see the carnival, to collect accounts and to see the special Mimzy’s Palace show for that time. They really were very fun and colorful days, and I was hoping I could go see the show again that year too.

When we got home, I immediately put the bag I was carrying on the floor, took off my coat, and hung it on the hanger. I turned to see Mister Alastor, who was still standing in the lobby, his hands firmly gripping the handles of the shopping bags. He looked at me with expectant eyes and a tight smile.

“Mister Alastor?” I said, worried, approaching him.

Suddenly, he dropped the bags and the shopping basket. Vegetables and spices fell to the ground. I looked at him, looking for an explanation, and immediately he took my face to kiss me. The surprise lasted just a second, and I kissed him back, with the same emphasis. I put my arms around his neck to get closer to him. The sound of our desperate grunts and erratic breathing filled the hall as our tongues came together in a captivating dance. Without losing contact with our mouths, he reached down to put his arm behind my knees, until he lifted me up like a fairy tale maiden, and took me to his room.

It was a wonderful afternoon, with a long and intense session of wild intimacy. We put what we had learned the day before into practice and it was no longer as embarrassing for me to be more open to new things. It was becoming easier to know which things he liked. We found a new rhythm in our kisses and caresses, increasingly daring.

I hardly had time to think about how much it had cost him to hold back all day and put up with his desire to touch me when we were both in public. It was exactly as it had happened to me. He was good at hiding things, but even he had his limits, and as much as he wanted to contain himself, his eyes expressed everything, like when he looked at me while he touched me where no one else could. And I confirmed that those furtive looks upon my body when I tried on clothes had not been my imagination.

Once exhausted, we lay in bed, resting for a long time. I snuggled up to his body and was silent. Words were not necessary at the time. He hadn't even noticed that the light in the room was very dim. The sun was already setting, and dinner was not ready. I didn't want to get up, but my duties as a maid prevailed. Reluctantly, I gathered the spirits to get up.

I looked at Mister Alastor, who had his eyes closed with a huge smile of satisfaction.

“Mister Alastor, I must go make dinner,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “Today it's jambalaya.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“What a great way to end a Sunday,” he said in a mischievous tone, “But first, I think you need a quick clean up.”

He snapped his fingers and the remnants of our fluids on my body evaporated into the air. I smiled at him, grabbed my clothes, and left the room, his eyes following me. My legs were shaking, but I was really pleased. Those culminating points of pleasure, as I understood it, were called “climax” or “orgasm,” and it was an exuberant release of pleasure, which made the whole body tremble and left an intense sensation of relaxation. It was a pity that this wonderful feeling lasted only a few seconds.

I rescued the bags from the lobby and dressed in a cute pink dress with white polka dots. I prepared the dinner very carefully, without being able to avoid humming in the process. I heard Mister Alastor go into the bathroom, on the second floor. I tried the flavor of the jambalaya I was making and smiled. It was so delicious. I set the table and he came down as I rang the bell.

It was a joyous dinner, where he found any opportunity to touch my face or arms, more often than usual, and I let myself be loved. I knew that our relationship no longer had a name. We were more than boss and employee, but less than lovers, and I really didn't want to complicate things at the time. I was happy when he looked at me, giving me attention and touches.

“By the way, I know that Mimzy´s show will be in two weeks,” said Mister Alastor, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I could suggest that you participate in some act.”

I was shocked.

“But only professionals participate!” I exclaimed, “There will be no place for me on stage.”

“You are more talented than you think, darling,” he said, raising my chin with his hand, “Also, consider that Angel Dust can do his acts of transformation while singing; your presence would give the show a little more class.”

“Still, I would feel uncomfortable,” I said, without conviction, “But I admit that I would love to participate and audition.”

“That's the spirit,” he congratulated me.

“I think I can accompany my singing with the piano.”

“Just make a good song for it. On Friday, they usually rehearse. You can show your skills there. I'm sure everyone will like you.”

I gave him a half smile. His faith in my talent touched me.

“I suppose that ‘Who Doesn’t Risk, Doesn’t Win’ would work,” I said with resignation.

“I will look forward to your presentation,” he said.

He stood up and looked at me.

“What a wonderful dinner, my dear. A true delight!” he exclaimed, and pinched my cheek.

“You are welcome,” I said, smiling.

“But it is time to rest,” he said with his hands behind his back and going to the door, “Tomorrow we have to get up early.”

“Have a good night, Mister Alastor,” I said, smiling.

He stopped on the threshold of the door.

“Oh, dear, I think you haven't understood,” he said, turning his face to look at me, “I hope you are not bothered by an invitation to share my bed.”

It took me a few seconds to react.

“O-of course! I accept it with pleasure!” I exclaimed enthusiastically.

“I'll wait for you, then,” he said, satisfied, and left.

I was elated. It was strange, but being intimate didn't make me as anxious as sleeping next to him. Sleeping in his bed with him was something I could only dream of. Somehow, I felt that this brought us closer. I washed the dishes quickly, ran to clean up and put on my nightgown, and headed to his room.

I found him already in his pajamas, in his bed and reading a book with the bedside light on. I timidly approached him. He looked up and set his book aside. He tapped the uncovered part of the bed a couple times, inviting me into it. I settled carefully between the blankets and he turned off the light. He reached out to me, to stroke my head, and I snuggled into his chest.

I loved being like this. I felt protected and happy. Attached skin to skin, without any interruption. I sighed in my reverie. We seemed like a couple. We really seemed like a couple. He hadn't proposed anything to me about something formal, nor had he hinted at something similar, but I didn't care. Moral composure had no place in my little moment of perfection, in complete darkness, listening to his soft breathing, feeling his manly scent tickling my nose and his lips pressed to my crown. His hands, caressing my back, moved restlessly for more. Sliding his hand down my hip. Scrutinizing my thigh and going up, lifting my nightgown. I knew what was coming and I was more than ready. We loved each other once again that night.

The days that followed were basically the same routine. He went to work, while I waited with impatience and a burning desire for him throughout the day, trying to distract myself while cleaning and listening to his radio show, or singing while I played the piano. In the afternoon, he would come from work, we would have dinner and then we would be intimate one, two, even three times, sharing the last hours of the day until we fell asleep together, naked and hugging each other in his bed, after a light chat, in the twilight. I couldn't deny how exhausting that rhythm was. My legs hurt at first and I caught him yawning more often.

Also, I had to admit that he had discovered something new about me and something I already suspected about him: that we both liked to “play rough.” Hair pulling, tight grips, hickeys, bites, and spankings (which didn't hurt until a while after the sex ended). I had to get used to the bruises on my chest and wrists, and he didn't complain about the scratches on his back, or the hickeys on his neck, which he covered with his shirt.

But the daily coexistence was quite routine. There were, however, slight variations in his behavior. He was always attentive to me and my needs, but on Monday he surprised me with a chocolate cake that he had brought me. On Tuesday, when he left that morning, he said goodbye with a kiss on my cheek. And on Wednesday, he hugged me from behind, while I washed the dishes after dinner, and nibbled on my ear. As for me, I doubled my usual efforts, leaving everything tidy and in its place as he liked. I took care of each bouquet of daffodils so that they lived as long as possible, and when he went to work, he allowed me to accommodate his bowtie and jacket with love. I even started to feel a special affection for his shadow, almost seeing him as another member of the house.

But in essence, we were both still the same. Perhaps more anxious and playful, but in the end, nothing else had changed in our union. It was as if becoming more intimate had strengthened what was always there. It was all laughter, singing, dancing, kissing and caressing in the dark. A wonderful week that I will never forget.

But on Thursday night, after having made love for the second time that day, I began to play with his chest, while we rested. I traced the marks of his scars with my fingers. I felt the shape and softness of the taut skin that covered those wounds, from so many years ago. And I was focused on my work, until Mister Alastor spoke.

“Something on your mind, my dear?”

I tried to resist the temptation to ask again, but I did anyway.

“How were these scars made, Mister Alastor?” I said without stopping caressing them.

He tensed. In the dark, I watched as he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. I was afraid I had exceeded a limit. He was silent for a while.

“They must be very old,” I added, to break the tension.

“They are,” he said after a few moments.

Neither of us said anything else. Excruciating minutes passed, in which I thought that my question would remain unanswered like so many others. I always believed that digging into his past was something he would not dare share with anyone. He was always shrouded in a halo of mystery, never letting anyone know more about him than they should.

But then he began to talk.

“I'm going to tell you the story of a child,” he said.

I looked at him in surprise and did not dare to make a single sound, so as not to interrupt him.

_“He was a very intelligent and misunderstood boy. He was the only child of a magnificent woman, a connoisseur of magic that few understood, and a man with whom she had to marry for having become pregnant before marriage; and thus, avoid the disgrace of the eyes of the villagers._

_“That boy grew up being very attached to his mother. She taught him the good things in life, to enjoy good music, to cook, to learn things beyond the limits established by popular belief. His mother taught him magic. Real magic. Blessed magic that could make ordinary people marvel at him. You could cure simple illnesses, change the color and shape of everyday things, could make non-burning fire appear in your hands, and even make you very lucky in gambling. All with spells from spices and small sacrifices of farm animals._

_“The boy loved his mother and that magic that she taught him with love and patience. She praised him with every achievement and made him proud of his progress._

_“‘My boy, you are so smart. You are destined to do great things.’_

_“But not all people loved magic._

_“The boy’s father was already a widowed man when he got the naive young woman pregnant. He worked as a bank clerk and she was the receptionist of the building. It was then that, between looks and love letters, he conquered the poor girl, who, enraptured that a man of his caliber was interested in her, gave herself to him without thinking, and since he was threatened by the moral regulations of the time and a warning of losing his job from the same bank where he worked, he had to take her as a wife to avoid dishonor._

_“It seemed like she wouldn’t have any problems, but his surprise and rejection were enormous when he discovered that she used magic. They were already married. And the worst thing for him was to think about the possibility that his son would be a carrier of that woman’s blood. He was furious._

_“He was a violent man, a perfectionist to insane limits, very religious, and not very affectionate. He always dressed well and ruthlessly corrected with a riding whip at any disrespect or magic in his presence. His firstborn grew up in fear. He was strict with his son’s education and any mistake was punished with blows on the shoulders and hands. He liked perfection. And his habit of smoking, like a fireplace, resulted in his intense tobacco smell being impregnated in his fetid breath._

_“And, unsurprisingly, he beat his wife too. He always called her incompetent for not folding clothes perfectly. Whenever he found out that she had been performing that hated magic in the eyes of his god, he would hit her. And he was even more violent when she insisted on teaching her son that filthy magic._

_“But that didn't stop the boy's mother from teaching him all she knew about magic and encouraging him to continue searching for new ways of knowing. But the boy was not blind. He could see the beatings and hear his mother cry, even though she always smiled._

_“‘You are never fully dressed without a smile.’_

_“The time came when the child, in tears, asked her not to teach him any more so that he didn't have to see her suffer. But she smiled and said it didn't matter. That magic should continue to be taught and she firmly believed that her son had a natural gift due to his rapid progress._

_“‘With your natural talent, you can achieve the most incredible things! Things that no other human being could achieve!’_

_“Then the boy understood that if it was so important for his mother that he learn, he would insist much more on learning. Secretly. Silently. At night. Any time the father was gone was a good time. But everything was always in complete secrecy. Magic was not for everyone, and the boy knew that if saying something about his lessons meant beating for his mother, he would keep his lips closed._

_“The boy had a certain reputation at his school. With simple spells that attracted luck, he won bets on toys and cookies on the playground. More than once he left the deluded, who believed they could beat him, crying. Older children couldn't defeat him, and sometimes he had to sneak away to avoid being hit. He gained fame for being blessed by the smile of a guardian angel. But one day, luck did not accompany him. It was one afternoon that his father came home earlier than usual and found him playing with the things he had earned that day._

_“Where did you get those things? Did you steal them?’ He shouted angrily._

_“‘No! I won them at school!’ Said the little boy._

_“‘You were betting?! Did you lose what I have given you with so much effort, in some bet?!’ exclaimed the man, indignant._

_“‘No! I have never lost anything in my bets! I always win! Always!’ Shouted the boy, terrified and on the verge of tears._

_“‘How do you always win?’ Said his father, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “Have you been using magic again?!’_

_“The boy froze with fear. He had said too much and his father noticed that he had caught him. The man locked the door. He ordered him to take off his shirt and stand against the wall. It was then that the boy, in panic, heard the hissing sound of the belt breaking through the air, to impact on his back, almost feeling his spine break with each blow that marked him, throbbing and burning. That thick leather belt with a sharp, ornate metal spike had a hook that would bury in and tear. In this case: his skin. The boy cried but endured every stabbing blow._

_The man hit him fiercely and angrily. It looked like a demon. His mother could not enter, but she was listening. You could hear her screaming behind the locked door, struggling desperately in an attempt to open it._

_“The boy trembled on his feet, biting his lips to keep from crying. But it hurt a lot. He felt his own flesh become raw and you could see the drops of his blood splattered on the floor._

_When the father seemed to have enough, he lowered the bloody belt. Panting with exhaustion, he turned to the door and screamed._

_“‘You taught my son filthy magic! Next up is you, damn witch!’_

_“The boy then realized with horror that the same pain would be inflicted on his mother. She would also have her skin forever scarred with huge scars that would make her cry. She didn't deserve that. The boy then, with enviable courage, turned and faced his father._

_“‘NO! Give me all the blows you want, but you won't touch her! And I will not complain!’ Shouted the little one, with determination, opening his arms, in acceptance._

_“Then the man looked at him, in a second of stupor. The woman screamed even louder than before, in despair. The boy's father gathered strength and, without thinking, began to hit him. His small body was filled with wounds from the metal part of the belt, which cut him, due to the force with which he was being hit. Blood ran down his back and torso, to stain the floor. The boy was not screaming. Oh no. He was smiling with difficulty, his eyes covered with tears, but he was determined not to show the regret that his father expected to see in him. He continued to stand accepting the blows instead of his mother, as the woman's pleading cries, and his father's furious grunts invaded the place._

_“When the man was too tired to go on and when he saw his son barely standing, still smiling, he became more enraged. It seemed that his attempt at punishment had not worked. Then he took the boy by the hair and kicked the door open. The woman tried to save her son, but her husband threw her to the ground with a slap, and then began to drag the boy to the exit._

_“‘No! Enough! Don't put him in the shed again!’_

_“The boy stared in horror at the scene, and his father took him to the back of the house. The shed was a small old wooden shack where they kept a dog. A huge, wild dog in a metal cage. This animal was not fed as often as it should have been and was extremely aggressive. It was a huge hound that the father trained to hunt and also to torment his son. The man used to put the boy in there for an hour, to punish him if he had behaved indecently. The dog's cage was large enough to barely leave a gap between the wall and the bars, inches from the jaws of the canine or so that his claws did not tear the skin of the poor boy, who remained attached to the wall throughout the punishment._

_But that time, when his father left him there, bloody, in that narrow hallway and slammed the door shut, something different happened. Something broke inside the boy. Prey to the purest terror, pain, and feeling that his father despised him. He no longer cared if he died, he no longer cared about the pain, or the blurred vision he was victim to because of the blood loss. He just didn't want to feel like that anymore._

_“Many hours passed. Shivering with fear in the dark, listening to the furious barking and growling of the dog. The boy hugged his legs, clinging to the wall, trying to get as far away as possible from that beast that wanted to devour him. He felt sore, he had no tears left, he felt sleepy inside, his bruises had stopped bleeding, but the smell drove the starving dog crazy. The boy was afraid, hungry, cold. And those fierce eyes had him paralyzed. That animal was the embodiment of his nightmares._

_“When the door finally opened, there was already daylight. And there was his mother, in a trance and with a swollen face from the blow to the face that she had received the day before. The dog jumped to try to attack her through the gate. The woman looked at the beast and only said a word._

_“‘Pugio.’_

_“Immediately, the dog fell dead and separated into two parts. It seemed to have been cut by an invisible sword at the waist. His blood and guts were strewn on the ground. The boy saw all that, completely stunned. He saw his mother like he had never seen her before. A powerful witch who had come to rescue him. He saw her as his savior._

_“The woman rushed to hug her son, while crying and kissing him on the face._

_“‘Mommy, I kept smiling,” said the boy with pride._

_“‘Yes, my son. You were very brave,’ she said, stroking her face._

_“They left the shed and entered the house. In the middle of the room was his father's lifeless body, his head burst from all the blows he received with a blood-stained baseball bat that lay next to him. It was the same bat that just a few days ago, the little boy had won in a marble competition._

_“‘He wanted to take you away, my little one,” explained the mother, “He wanted to send you to a boarding school in another city and separate you from me.”_

_“The boy, far from being horrified by the corpse, was excited and looked with perception at his mother._

_“‘This means that Dad can no longer harm us, right? Mommy?’ He said hopefully._

_“‘That's right,’ she said, smiling._

_“She snapped her fingers and the blood from the boy’s body disappeared._

_“‘Would you teach me how to do that?_

_“‘I will teach you everything you want, my love._

_“‘Mommy, my whole body hurts. I'm hungry.’_

_“‘I will prepare you something delicious and heal your wounds. But the scars will remain, I'm sorry.’_

_“‘I don't care about scars.’_

_“She took his hand and looked him in the eye, smiling._

_“‘Now it's just you and me. We will never again allow something like this. Nor will I fail to protect your life with mine, my little Alastor.’_

_“‘Thank you, Mommy. And I will take care of you, I promise.’”_

Mister Alastor stopped talking. While telling me the story he had had his gaze lost on the ceiling. It looked as if he had opened an old faucet, worn and rusty, that had allowed everything that had been stuck in his heart for so many years to flow free. Each scar was a blow. Each mark on his body reminded him of his life with his father. In each nightmare he could see those painful memories revived in his head. I wondered how many times he had dreamed of that dog, stalking him in the dark, growling in his ear, haunted by his shrill barking, feeling his hot, stinking breath splatter across his face. Waking up uneasy and scared, unable to go back to sleep.

How long had he and his mother suffered at the hands of that man?

I wiped the tears away with my hands. I really was deeply touched. It was the first time he had spoken so openly about his past.

“Did you find the answer adequate, dear?” he said.

He reached out to turn on the light on the nightstand. He rummaged in the drawer until he pulled out a white handkerchief. It was the same one that I had given him days before, and he offered it to me. I wiped my tears with it and took a few breaths to calm down.

“Yes,” I said, unable to look at him.

I heard him snort through his nose and he sat next to me. In the quiet of the night, sitting next to each other, and in the dim light of the small lamp, I could see how much our naked bodies were alike. Both full of scars. Our skin unfairly marked forever for reasons that were alien to us. He, for being the magic-practicing son of an intolerant father, and me for revenge towards someone else’s heinous acts.

“We are both damaged,” I said.

“Quite,” he agreed.

I took a deep breath and sighed.

“Thank you for sharing your memories with me, sir,” I said, looking at him.

He stared at me for a few seconds, in silence. Then he stroked my head.

“We have a problem here,” he said.

Days ago, he had told me the same thing in the basement.

“What is the problem?” I said.

“You are perdition.”

“Whose perdition?” I said, misunderstanding.

“Mine.”

We stared in silence. How should I interpret those words? He looked at me with soft eyes and caressed my cheek.

“It's time to sleep, sweetheart,” he said.

He turned off the light and settled on his pillow. I followed his example and we stared in the dark.

“I will not tell anyone,” I said, with determination.

“My vote of confidence lives up to your word,” he said.

He opened his arms, inviting me to come closer. I hugged him gladly. And we stayed like this, until we fell asleep.

***

The sound of Mister Alastor’s alarm clock woke me from my slumber. I turned it off and sat on the bed. It was officially Friday, and during the afternoon I had the audition at Mimzy´s club. I tried to calm down. I had prepared myself the whole week during the afternoons with some songs that could be useful to me. I still had all day to decide, but at that time I had to take care of breakfast.

“Mister Alastor, wake up,” I said, lovingly approaching his face.

As if by inertia, he opened his eyes immediately and looked at me.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said.

He sat on the bed for a moment and we were face to face. He moved his hand, in a gesture of wanting to caress my face, but only lightly passed his knuckles over my cheekbone. I looked at him expectantly. He took a deep breath, until he finally spoke.

“My dear, I've thought about it a lot and I need to tell you something. For your own good, you have to learn something that I´m willing to teach you,” he said.

“A new recipe?” I said curiously.

He chuckled.

“No, it is something even more useful than that. But it will take all of our free time and effort,” he judged.

“And what could be so difficult?” I said, curiously.

He smiled haughtily at me and narrowed his eyes mischievously.

“I’m going to teach you magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Songs in links!
> 
> You're the cream of my coffee https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XjO9CAr-u0  
> “Please” by Bing Crosby https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSYsXi0ZoEk
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


	13. According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reason does not understand the heart.

I was pleased to see her expression turn to one of stupor. Then, she sat up and smiled broadly, jumping up and down on the bed.

“Magic?! Really?!” she exclaimed, delighted.

“Just the basics, so you can defend yourself in case I'm not present,” I explained, “From time to time I send my shadow to roam the house to find out how everything is going, but I will not always be present to defend you.”

“Why do I need magic to defend myself?” she said worried.

From the nightstand I pulled out a badge, which I had been keeping since the past night. I held it out to her and she gasped when she saw the photograph.

“Is this... from my uncle?” She said, exchanging puzzled looks between the card and me, “How did you get it?”

“Honey, you don't know that your uncle is a practitioner of black magic, do you?” I said, standing up, “And a pretty rude one.” I added.

“No…” she said, opening her eyes at the realization, “It isn’t possible! Did you encounter him?!” she said, holding her cheeks in horror.

I looked at her and touched my forefinger twice to where I had my sutured shoulder wounds, smiling. Then, she understood. She stood up quickly, and came up to me. She stroked the stitches she had sewn herself and looked at me, concerned.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she said.

“Tell you what, darling?” I said, stroking her head, “That I met your uncle at Mimzy's Palace and that he tried to murder me with a dog-shaped shadow?”

She ran a hand over her face, worried. It seemed that she could not process what was happening.

“I'm not understanding. How could my uncle...? Why...?” she babbled.

“I think we can discuss this over a little coffee... and a little more clothing.” I said.

I draped my bathrobe over her shoulders. Until then, she had not noticed her own nudity. I put a towel around my waist, composed.

“I am going to bathe.” I said calmly.

“Then I'll wait for you downstairs,” she said, reserved.

I sank into the cold water of the tub and sighed. I snapped my fingers and the temperature of the water began to heat up to a pleasant point, as I took the soap and started to clean up. Having spent every moment alone since last night, I couldn't help but think about everything that had happened in the past few days. I was beginning to worry. Much. Charlotte's question about my scars had probably caught me off guard, and the mere fact that I had answered it so easily seemed puzzling, even to me. It had been a truly intimate memory that I guarded fiercely from the curious of heart, but it took only two tries for me to tell her everything. It was, moreover, strange.

I snorted through my nose. I would have to be more rigorous with Charlotte's access to my most personal thoughts. Our days of intimacy had made me let my guard down, and our abrupt closeness had clouded my senses, bewilderingly. I felt like I had been hampered and my thoughts wandered a lot towards Charlotte lately. I had never had to strain to keep my composure and hold back any momentum, but the mere fact of not being able to touch her more intimately when I wanted to (especially being in public places), made me feel constantly tense.

Everything was new and puzzling. An accumulation of unknown, intense, and overwhelming experiences that led me to euphoria.

All thanks to Charlotte.

I had surprised myself in inexplicable ramblings in moments of solitude. Even in the middle of the presentations at my work. I lost myself remembering moments in my head over and over again. Clearly remembering her gasps in the dark, her wild kisses, the softness of her curves, the pain of her nails, and her teeth on my skin, and the sweat on her forehead, and her rosy cheeks, and her satisfied smile when she looked at me when we finished our activities....

But one of the strangest facts was that I had begun to make sense of certain song lyrics that I had not previously considered. Very curious, truthfully.

Charlotte was my downfall.

The breakfast bell led me to understand the long time I had meditating in the water. Even my fingers had wrinkled. Quickly, I got dressed for work and went down to the table.

Charlotte was wearing one of her new cotton dresses. It was a turquoise dress with flower patterns on it and she wore a white vest. I didn't like the blue family very much, but everything looked good on her. Furthermore, lately, her eyes were brighter and her hair was shinier.

I sat at the head of the table and she served me my coffee. She sat next to me and looked at me expectantly. I couldn't help but widen my smile when I noticed her impatience.

“You are anxious.” I said, spreading butter on my toast.

“Mister Alastor, please, I need to know what happened that night.” she said seriously.

“It was not my intention to go hunting him, darling.” I said, shrugging, “I only met him at Mimzy's Palace. He killed a man in the bathroom and staggered out of the room, coughing up blood. He seemed quite ill.”

She frowned and pursed her lips.

“And he killed a person...?” she said, slowly.

I narrowed my eyes and ran my index finger around the contour of her jaw.

“For the same reason that I kill criminals, my sweet Charlotte,” I said disdainfully.

She looked down, puzzled.

“How is it that can use black magic?” she asked.

“This city is famous for this type of magic. You wouldn’t believe how many others study this fine art,” I said without flinching.

I drank some coffee.

“I followed him and confronted him, but he managed to flee after an attack,” I said, without giving it much importance.

“Did you follow him to kill him?” she said, shocked.

“He falls perfectly into the ‘criminal’ category, considering everything he did to you.” I said shrewdly.

She looked at me, still very shocked. She looked at her cup of coffee, as if waiting for all the answers she was looking for to emerge.

“Frankly, it doesn't seem strange to me if you consider his reputation. He killed many people on the Magne estate during his years in charge.” I continued.

A light of understanding made Charlotte wide her eyes.

“It's true, a lot of that used to be rumored in the Magne house,” she said, “Also that he desecrated women and beat the workers.”

“There are only corpse rituals and sacrifices with black magic, darling,” I said, looking quizzingly at her, “Beings from beyond the world hold little to no interest in the pleasures of human flesh for their rituals. If he desecrated women, it had nothing to do with black magic.”

“I understand.” she said.

She was thoughtful, then she began to fiddle with her thumbs on the edge of the steaming cup of coffee.

“My uncle always had fragile health,” she said suddenly, “My dad told me that my uncle was not able to go a month without getting sick when he was a child, and that it was difficult for him to recover. Due to this, my grandfather decided to leave the farm management to Dad, so that he would take over and make the cotton business prosper. He could not leave the future of the Magne house to my uncle and the constant instability in his health.

“Then, my uncle, annoyed, as he believed he deserved most of the inheritance for being the firstborn, told my grandfather that it was up to him to direct the farm. But my father managed to pick up the family business in a short time with strategic alliances, and the profits were evident. Soon, there was no question who was the best to inherit the position.

“My dad kindly told my uncle that there was no problem if he wanted to stay in the Magne house, and that he would always be provided for. It was then that my uncle started drinking. I always saw him lying down or with a hangover and headache. He would always respond to us grumpily and violently. Even when he married my aunt Magda, I never saw him happy. And neither did my aunt.

“When Dad died and he was put in charge, his frail body was still weighing on him. He was constantly getting sick and suddenly... he started to get better.”

I looked at her. Her countenance seemed absorbed in an idea.

“Being in charge of the farm, he committed many atrocities. The employees were unprotected and he bribed the authorities so that they did not investigate, and the cases of abuse and murder were never filed.”

“It is convenient to have powerful friends when you want to commit a crime.” I said, “The best thing is to never leave evidence and silence those who know too much.”

Charlotte drank her coffee and sighed.

“If I think about it, it's not surprising that he used those murders to practice black magic.” she said, upset.

“Surely, if your father had lived while your uncle killed people, he would not have taken long to find the culprit. Sooner or later, your uncle would have been caught.” I commented.

“Can you use magic to heal people?” she said seriously.

I closed my eyes and threw my head back to exhale. Then I looked at her.

“There is a way to avoid death from disease, but only in extreme conditions,” I said, “but black magic is not used to heal my dear. What your uncle did must have been a deal with a demon, to prolong his life in exchange for human lives. Something similar to what I did for your life, except that he surely doesn't know how to read a grimoire as it should be read.”

She looked at me, worried.

“What is the grimoire?” she said “You mentioned it to me a few days ago.”

I rested my head on my hand and looked at her.

“You're reaching the limit of questions, darling,” I warned.

“Please…” she pleaded.

I sighed in resignation and stood up.

“The grimoire is a book of magic. It is full of ancient writings, spells, powerful symbols, which allow the user to access knowledge that is safe only for a few. It can be very troublesome for beings from the beyond, because it allows you to give orders to demons.”

“And... why have you got a piece of the grimoire?” she said cautiously.

“DING. DING. DING. DING. DING!” I said, taking the breakfast bell and ringing it, “That’s enough answers for today. It’s time to go to work.”

She looked at me exasperated and crossed her arms. I laughed.

“You have nothing to worry about, my dear. Michael Magne is weak, I can attest to that,” I said as I took my metal lunch box.

Charlotte walked me into the hall, head down.

“When he attacked me with his shadow, I could see his sorry and deteriorated state of health. He probably took advantage of a drunk lying in the bathroom of Mimzy's palace to gain some power. He must be desperate.”

“But he escaped,” Charlotte said, my coat in her hands.

She helped me put it on, buttoning the buttons and straightening my bowtie thoughtfully. I had allowed her to accommodate my morning clothes lately, and I was quite comfortable with this. I felt it was a good way to wear some of her attention throughout the day, steering away from the many hours of the soft perfume of her hair and the warmth of her touch. I hadn't noticed how we'd gotten to this point so naturally.

I took my bag off the coat rack.

“So, you must learn to use some magic. At least to defend yourself.” I said.

“Mister Alastor, does my uncle have something to do with the fact that I woke up to excruciating cold a few days ago? If it has no natural explanation, it must well be supernatural,” she said uneasily.

Oh. How perceptive.

“Here the question is: why would he want to find you?” I said, holding up a finger “You yourself said it doesn't make sense. You're more useful dead than alive for him, isn't that correct?”

“I guess…” she said, not very convinced.

“Don't worry about him. If I meet him again, I will see to it that he does not interrupt our lives in the future.” I assured her.

She sighed, but gave me a resigned smile.

“Now, don't forget that we have to go to Mimzy's palace in the afternoon. We will get an audition for you. I'd also like you to come with me to Rosie's place, I have some… pending accounts I need to pay.”

“Oh sure!” she said more cheerfully, “Shall we meet at 5 o'clock over there?”

“Magnificent.” I agreed.

I approached her and kissed her forehead. She smiled at me.

“See you in the afternoon, dear.” I said with spirit, “Think, of course, of a good song to present to her.”

She sighed in concern, but kept smiling.

“I lose nothing by trying. Have a nice day.” she said.

“You too, dear.” I said, and left the house.

The day at work was really quiet. I was in a very good mood. Occasionally, I would send my shadow to do a round at home, and I saw Charlotte singing as she swept. And at lunchtime, while I was eating my sandwich, I saw her practicing on the piano, writing down in her notebook and muttering to herself. She looked up and greeted my shadow cheerfully and showed it a list of songs written down in the notebook. I snickered. I had never said that I could see her from my shadow, but I suspected that she sensed it.

At one point, she started practicing one of the songs that seemed to be on the list.

**I can be happy, I can be sad**

**I can be good or I can be bad**

**It all depends on you**

**I can be lonely out in a crowd**

**I can be humble or I can be proud**

**It all depends on you**

**I can save money or spend it**

**Go right on living or end it**

**You're to blame, honey, for what I do**

**I know that I can be beggar or I can be king**

**I can be almost any old thing**

**It all depends on you**

**I can be happy, I can be sad**

**I can be good or I can be bad**

**Depends on you**

**I can be very lonely when I'm out with a crowd**

**I can be humble or I can be proud**

**Depends on you**

**I can save a great deal of money or I can spend it**

**Go right on living or end it**

**You're to blame, baby, for what I do**

**I can be a beggar, I can be a king**

**I can be almost any old thing**

**It all depends on you**

If I could have applauded her, I would have. She looked at her notebook again and tilted her head thoughtfully. But my vision was interrupted, because suddenly, I felt someone hugging me by the shoulders. I tensed immediately.

“Alastor! My good friend!” said a familiar and lively voice.

Pentious was visiting the station. His hooked nose and huge top hat were unmistakable. Usually, when my shadow saw him approach, it would alert me in time, and give me an opportunity to sneak away. But I had been so engrossed in Charlotte's song that I didn't see him coming. For things like this, I felt at a disadvantage being without my shadow.

“Good afternoon, Pentious.” I said, withdrawing his arm from my shoulder.

Pentious, completely invasive, started sniffing at me. He looked at my face and put his hands on his cheeks, delighted.

“You look great!” he said, amazed.

“I always look good, dear fellow.” I said, proudly.

“No, Alastor! You look radiant!” he exclaimed.

His emphasis was flattering, but disconcerting.

“Excuse me?” I said, confused.

“Your dark circles, your hair, your bowtie straightened, clearly by someone else, and that subtle aroma…” he said, very excited.

“I'm not following you.” I said, standing up.

“Alastor, you’re in love!” he exclaimed, delighted and with bright eyes.

I opened my eyes wide and paralyzed. What was this man saying?

“Oh wait! Don’t tell me.” he said with a hand on his chin, “It's that cute girl you went to my restaurant with the other day, right? Oh, what good tastes you have, my friend!”

He tapped my arm with his elbow and looked at me mischievously.

“She was quite a creature from heaven!” he continued, “When you decide on the wedding date, my venue will be at your complete disposal!”

My smile tightened. His conclusions had me out of place.

“I think you are imagining things.” I said, making some distance between us and putting my hands behind my back.

“Oh, how modest you are. You can't deny the lovely couple you two make. You have my total blessing for your future together!” he said, putting his hands together and giving me a big smile.

“There is no proposal involved with Charlotte, Pentious.” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Oh! I see, there’s no ring... yet,” he said haughtily, “You have to plan a suitable proposal! If you want some advice: never do it with white pigeons in the background, they can make waste on your suit, and don’t experiment with exotic food when you go to make the proposal, or your stomach will hurt.”

I looked at him in irritation. I cleared my throat.

“I keep my private life hidden from the curious.” I said, with elegance.

“Of course, a guy as popular as you must have a lot of undesirables trying to be part of your circle, my friend.” he said solemnly.

I had to remind myself why I hadn't hit him yet, several times.

“And by the way... what is your presence at the station for?” I said, changing my tone.

“I just came to drop off the new special menus for the Mardi gras festival.” he said, handing me a folder, “Everyone who goes from today on will get a free mask, and there are two new desserts on the list, limited edition.”

“Fantastic.” I said, taking the folder.

I closed my lunch box and took it.

“Well, if that's all, I must go back to work now. I will announce your promotions in your segment.” I said, heading to the exit of the dining hall.

“Hey, you can come with your girl to my place today! On the house!” I heard him call after me.

“I will take your word for it.” I said, adjusting my glasses.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Luckily, Pentious retired soon, and I didn't have to hear any more of his irritating chatter. And I avoided thinking about everything he had said. I just had to focus on my speech and music to silence unwanted thoughts.

At about five in the afternoon, I was waiting for Charlotte at the entrance to Mimzy's Palace. My segments lasted until four on the days of the radio show, so it gave me the opportunity to go to Mimzy's place to see how the finances were, or to be able to get home earlier. And as it was Friday, the activities of the Mimzy Palace started even earlier.

It was then that I saw Charlotte. She came to me at a fast pace and smiled at me. She was wearing one of her new pink two-piece cotton dresses, covered by her red coat. She looked radiant and anxious.

“Good afternoon, Charlotte.” I said, with a gallant bow “You look absolutely adorable.”

“Good afternoon, Mister Alastor.” she said, smiling “I spent an hour deciding what to wear.”

“A magnificent choice.” I replied.

I offered her my arm and she took it. We are heading inside the compound. People turned to look at us, specifically Charlotte. I adjusted the arm she was holding and lifted my face, solemnly.

“I’m really, truly nervous! I rehearsed all afternoon and practiced the best songs that work for me, but I already know what song I'm going to sing,” she said enthusiastically.

“I have no doubt that you will be the star of the show.” I said cheerfully.

She smiled uncertainly at me.

“First, you have to see what Miss Mimzy says.” she stated.

The revelry of the people for the live shows on Friday was evident. Beaded necklaces and masks were still delivered to customers free of charge. An expense that was easily met, considering the inflated price of everything they sold to enjoy the shows presented. The waitresses went from there to here, supplying consumers with all the alcohol they could, and stoked the enthusiasm of the environment.

Mimzy was not in her office, so I took Charlotte behind the scenes. I saw Charlotte squeezing her free hand around a mask she had accepted at the entrance. I heard her breathe heavily several times to calm herself.

In the dancers' locker rooms, we found Vaggie, finishing fixing the headdress of an unruly freckled dancer.

“Ok Cherry, you're done.” Vaggie said.

“It was about time. The one at table eight was making eyes at me.” said the aforementioned, looking at herself in the mirror.

“Just don't lose your glass eye again.” Vaggie said, clearly in a bad mood.

The Cherry girl made an obscene gesture with her finger and left haughtily.

“Hello Vaggie.” Charlotte said.

“Charlotte? Hello! I'm glad to see you.” Vaggie said, surprised.

She looked at me, too, with less sympathy.

“Good afternoon sir.” she said, reservedly.

“Greetings, my dear.” I said, “We are looking for your boss. Have you seen her?”

“Yes, she's close to the stage.” she said, “Do you need to see any paperwork?”

“Actually, we need to know if she can audition me to be a singer.” Charlotte said nervously.

“Really?” Vaggie said, shocked “Um... Are you sure about this, Charlotte? Working here could be dangerous. There’s a lot of jealousy in this area. Not counting the men who could harass you.”

“Oh, you look down on Charlotte, dear.” I said, confidently, “I can attest that she is not a lady in distress, and her talent must be shown to the world.”

Vaggie looked at Charlotte.

“Charlotte, listen to me. You cannot trust this audition,” she said, almost pleadingly, taking her by the shoulders, “You know Miss Mimzy would love to see you fall…”

Vaggie gave me a sidelong glance, then looked back at her.

“Life isn’t a musical, hun. If you plan to start singing here, I can already tell you that it is a bad idea.” she said, frowning.

“Look, I know Miss Mimzy would love to see me fail.” Charlotte said confidently “And that anyone could be intimidated by the field of music. But not me. I really think I can do it and I would like you to support me.”

Vaggie looked at me suspiciously, almost as if blaming me for Charlotte's conviction of wanting to pursue her dream of singing on stage.

Finally, she sighed in defeat.

“Come with me.” she said, with little encouragement.

Vaggie guided us through the locker room. The dancers preparing for their next number were there, putting on makeup and tightening their corsets. Too engrossed to notice, or maybe too used to noticing, that someone who didn't belong to the cast was there.

I looked at Charlotte. She was still nervous, but her determined gaze did not lessen.

“Do you take it as a personal challenge?” I said, bowing to her.

“If I am not able to show what I am worth as a singer to someone who is dedicated to this, I will not be able to rest easy.” she said, frowning.

“You cannot give your full trust to the opinion of others, my dear.” I said fluently “If I hadn't sent all those who tried to defame me to hell, I wouldn't be where I am.”

“When you say you sent them to hell…” she said, unsure.

“Figuratively.” I assured her.

She huffed and laughed. I smiled sincerely. Her laughter tickled my stomach.

It was funny how that tingling I felt had increased over time, to the point of considering it as something everyday in my life. Months ago, I had attributed it to a stomach illness. But after verifying that this symptom was episodic and spontaneous, I had to rule it out as intoxication. In addition, it did not generate discomfort, but on the contrary, inciting euphoria and good spirits, but I did not give it much importance. After a few weeks I noticed that the tickling was only in the presence of Charlotte, so I came to believe that it was a kind of allergic reaction to her. However, I was still puzzled, since it did not generate any kind of physical discomfort, hives, or itching. It was always accompanied by a great comfort with her company and joy when I was with her.

Then, that tingling began to transform, and that compelling need to join her began to dent my spirit in a stormy way. Almost like a devastating fire that started to burn my rational thoughts when I was by her side, when I felt her scent, when I touched her warm face. As the days passed, I had to begin to strive to maintain my composure when we were alone in my own home. Those images in my thoughts of me kissing Charlotte's neck, hearing her moans in my ear, my hands touching under her dress, and stroking her white skin- I repressed them as soon as they reached my head.

But something happened that I did not expect. She, breaking my third rule, kissed me after waking up from her sleepwalking several nights ago. And I saw how everything that I had desperately contained came back with more force. I even had to embed my nails into my arm, to think rationally, and restrain my own lust. I began to think more about her, to be more attentive to her needs, I began to encourage her more in what mattered to her. Her existence had permeated me like no one else had, and I felt like a prisoner to her smile. What she produced in me was a fascinating phenomenon. And all that intensified when we began to be intimate, and the idea of not having her close seemed inconceivable to me.

All of that had a name. I knew it, but I didn't want to pronounce it.

Charlotte's voice brought me out of my thought’s ramblings.

“Mister Alastor, Miss Mimzy is here.” she said.

“How can this be possible?!” said Mimzy, flustered “Niffty, come here immediately!”

Almost like an invocation, a small girl with strong red hair quickly walked past us.

“Yes, Miss Mimzy?” Niffty said in her shrill voice.

“I want you to clean up this mess right away!” Mimzy exclaimed, pointing at something on the floor.

As she pulled away, I could see it more closely. It was animal feces.

“Oh, my goodness! This is awful!” Niffty said, and hurriedly cleaned it with a shovel and broom.

The girl took out a bag from her skirt and put the rubbish in. She poured disinfectant and cleaned, quickly with a rag.

“All ready,” she said, proudly.

“If it wasn't for his clients, I would force Angel Dust to cage that damn pig,” muttered Mimzy.

“She seems to be in a bad mood,” Charlotte whispered uneasily.

Her hand tightened on my arm. She bit her lip and looked at me.

“Maybe…” Charlotte said uncertainly.

“Mimzy!” I exclaimed, before Charlotte backed down.

The aforementioned turned to hear her name and her face lit up when she looked at me, but she immediately frowned when she saw who was with me.

“What a pleasure to see you, my friend!” I said, approaching her.

“Al, I'm so glad to see you! To what do I owe your visit?” she said, recovering.

“Good afternoon, Miss Mimzy.” Charlotte said tense.

“Oh, you're coming with Charlotte.” she said with a tight smile “Welcome, dearie.”

“Mimzy, I wanted to visit you as an investor for this magnificent venue.” I said solemnly.

Mimzy looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Would you be so kind as to give my dear Charlotte a singing audition?” I said, gesturing toward her “I know you need all the help you can get for the Mardi Gras week shows. So, I thought I'd introduce you to the talent of this rough diamond.”

“I promise not to disappoint you.” Charlotte said, flushed but determined.

The request seemed to leave Mimzy completely confused.

“Why do you want to sing here?” she said slowly.

“It is my great dream to sing on stage.” Charlotte said.

“And she has my full support.” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

After a few seconds of stupefaction, Mimzy began to laugh, high-pitched and shrill. Charlotte's face was tight, her hands trembling in the mask she squeezed, but she was still standing. We waited for Mimzy's laugh to subside.

“Oh sure, sure, I'll give you a chance to sing, honey,” she said, catching her breath.

Charlotte opened her eyes in surprise and turned to give me a big smile.

“Oh, thank you so much...!” Charlotte began to say.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” someone behind us interrupted.

If it wasn't for the different colored eyes, I wouldn't have known it was Angel Dust. He had dressed like a woman, with exaggerated makeup, a huge pink wig, a fuchsia glitter dress, and long black gloves with matching heels. And last but not least, he wore a red mask with glitter and a white feather stole. It was the complete opposite of a lady's decency and good taste.

“It is time for my act. Don't come trying to sabotage me.” he said, tapping his bangs with disdain.

“Angel?” Charlotte said, impressed.

“Who else did you expect?” he said, pinching her cheek.

“It's time to bring fire to this stage,” said the presenter “I present to you: Angel Dust!”

The people's applause seemed to energize Angel.

“Make way for the professionals, girlie.” he said haughty.

He passed between us, pushing Vaggie without waiting for her to retreat. He settled in the middle of the stage. He had his back to the public. The curtains opened and the music played.

Angel turned dramatically to see the people and began to sing.

**Hit me one time**

**Hit me twice**

**Ah, ah, ah**

**That's rather nice**

He paced the stage and waved his arms with exaggeration and drama.

**Oil and grime, poison sludge**

**Diesel clouds and noxious muck**

**Slime beneath me, slime up above**

**Ooh, you'll love my (ah-ah-ah) toxic love**

**I see the world and all the creatures in it**

**I suck 'em dry and spit' em out like spinach**

He got off the stage and sat on the lap of a client. He ruffled his hair and stood up.

**'Cause greedy human beings will always lend a hand**

**With the destruction of this worthless jungle land**

**And what a beautiful machine they have provided**

**To slice a path of doom with my foul breath to guide it**

He sat down on the edge of the stage and spread his arms.

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

**Filthy brown acid rain**

**Pouring down like egg chow mein**

**Slime beneath me, slime up above**

**Ooh, you'll love my (ah-ah-ah) toxic love**

He stood up and gave a final, wicked laugh.

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

Somehow, the audience stood up to such an extravagant show. Angel took out one of his gloves with his teeth and threw it at the people. Among the crowd, some clients fought for it, and they even began throwing blows. Angel laughed out loud and left the stage as the curtain closed. He came to us, walking with pride.

“You were amazing, Angel!” Charlotte exclaimed, excited “You are a king on the stage!”

“Did you only just notice, little doll?” he said haughtily, adjusting his wig.

“How did you manage to have that confidence, singing in front of so many people?” Charlotte asked.

Angel touched Charlotte's nose with the tip of his finger.

“It's simple: you have it or you don't have it.” he said, with a proud smile.

Vaggie stepped forward and faced Angel, furious.

“You threw a prop glove again!” she scolded him.

“I only give people what they ask of me, dear.” he said insidiously.

“You know that every garment counts!” she yelled at him.

“Can't you bear my perfect performance? Envy does not suit you, little lady.”

“You fell flat at the end.” Vaggie said reproachfully.

“Ugh, can't you wait for the public to finish flattering me before you express your poisonous comments?” Angel said, annoyed.

“If you neglect yourself, the public gets angry. That means: bad publicity, fewer customers, less money, and less Angel.” Vaggie said idly.

“Blah. Blah. Blah.” Angel said, ignoring her.

Angel ran a finger down Vaggie's cheek and then brought it to his mouth.

“Hum. Bitter. What a surprise!” he said maliciously.

Vaggie gritted her teeth and I laughed. I had to admit that their witty banter was something to watch.

Charlotte nervously addressed Mimzy.

“So, when can I audition for you?” Charlotte said cheerfully.

Mimzy put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh sweetie, we don't do things like that here.” Mimzy said, laughing.

She turned and looked at the stage.

“Your audition should be with our present target audience. It is not I who chooses what is best for them. They will,” she said maliciously.

The colors of Charlotte's face vanished instantly.

“W-wait,” she stammered, panicking “Are you implying that I audition here? With a real audience? NOW?”

“Well, if you're not ready for what's next, I doubt you have what it takes to sing on my stage.” Mimzy said smugly.

Charlotte's internal debate was evident. I removed the mask from her hand and adjusted it to her face.

“Everything is easier in anonymity, darling.” I assured her.

She looked at me, exasperated.

“I am not dressed for the occasion, sir.” she said, concerned.

Niffty yanked Angel's stole away.

“Hey!” he yelled indignantly.

“This will suffice, sweetheart.” she said, handing the garment to Charlotte.

She took a breath. She looked overwhelmed, but she smiled enthusiastically.

“Fine, I'm going to do it.” she said, evidently with more confidence than she felt.

“Excellent!” Mimzy said “What song do you need the band to play?”

“Deal With the Devil.” she said with a half smile, glancing at me.

I smiled more broadly at her.

“I will go give notice to the band. Introducing a newbie always improves the mood of our audience.”

She turned and went to speak to the musicians on stage. Charlotte took off her coat and Niffty took it.

“Why does a rookie presentation improve public spirits?” Charlotte asked Vaggie.

Vaggie sighed in annoyance.

“Because most of the time the newbies get laughed at and shamed by others,” she said “They are almost cannon fodder.”

Charlotte seemed to lose what little color was left on her face.

Mimzy stepped out from behind the closed curtains and stood in front of the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” she exclaimed to the crowd “The next act is from a girl with a big dream. Give a big round of applause to today's rookie!”

Charlotte was paralyzed and beginning to hyperventilate. She slapped her cheeks and frowned. Niffty tucked her stole around her neck and gave her a push to move forward. Charlotte made her way shyly to the center of the stage. She looked at the people, who were watching her with little interest.

Charlotte turned to see me, and I winked at her. She took a deep breath and lifted her face with determination. She signaled to the band and tapped to the pace of the music, before singing.

**I was thinkin 'a way to catch your attention**

**To make some spells and create conversation**

**I was thinkin' to make some magic for you**

**To love me as much as I do**

People started cheering for her voice and that seemed to give Charlotte more confidence.

**One rainy night on a dark route**

**A strange guy reached me and yelled, "hey you,**

**I have the solution to get you what you want,**

**But you must sign this, and I'll be your lord!"**

**"I'm Lucifer - also known as The Devil**

**Give me your sign and I'll vanish your pain**

**Then you can get what you want**

**And I'll be back ... don't you worry little dove!"**

Charlotte began to move into place gracefully, closing her eyes, given to the music. Her gaze conveyed confidence. The public had paused their conversations to listen. Charlotte snapped her fingers and people started to imitate her.

**Just look at me and laugh, baby**

**And say "I love you"**

**You smile like the moon, babe,**

**It's a gift just for you**

**Smile like the stars,**

**They are dancing waltz**

**And the night is made for us**

**I smiled broadly at him when he looked at me and turned.**

**So I made a deal with the Devil for you**

**For loving me baby, just as much as I do**

**And we're together having fun**

**And the Devil still waiting for the time**

I looked at the audience through the curtain. She had everyone completely engrossed, clapping to the beat. Vaggie was the most enthusiastic, not taking her eyes off Charlotte. I took off the mask and put it on. I looked at Charlotte, and with an almost magnetic energy, I approached her for a few turns on stage. People applauded my entry. She smiled delightedly at me. She took my hand and invited me to an impromptu dance that I could not refuse. People shouted excitedly for our graceful dance.

She kept singing.

**I'm Lucifer - also known as The Devil**

**Give me your sign and I'll vanish your pain**

**Then you can get what you want**

**And I'll be back ... don't you worry little dove!"**

**I'm Lucifer - also known as The Devil**

**Give me your sign and I'll vanish your pain**

**Then you can get what you want**

**I dropped her onto my arm and we looked at each other.**

**And I'll be back ... don't you worry little dove!**

The music kept playing. We continued dancing on stage as only we knew how to do it. Our steps were in perfect sync and the movement of her skirt was a magnificent sight. I made her turn and then took her by the waist to bring her closer to me, then made her fall backwards. She started humming what was left of the song, with a big smile of joy. The energy she released was heavenly and no one seemed to miss a thing. At the end of the song, the applause and cheers were immediate. It was a complete standing ovation.

I released Charlotte's hand and with a gesture invited her to bow to the audience. She was beaming.

“Atta girl!” Angel yelled, delighted.

Niffty hopped enthusiastically instead and whistled with her fingers to her mouth. Vaggie smiled, clapping her hands fervently. I looked at Mimzy, who was maintaining a neutral expression. I took Charlotte by the hand and led her off the stage.

Charlotte was laughing off her nerves and holding her face in her hands. I was very flushed.

“What a great show!” Niffty said.

“You are full of surprises, doll.” Angel said, ruffling her hair.

“I don't know where that came from!” Charlotte replied excitedly.

“Very well, calm down everyone.” Mimzy interrupted, “A great show, but I have to consider this decision with part of the investors. It is also up to them to know who is joining the cast, even if it is only temporary. Would you come to my office for a moment, Alastor?” she said.

“Of course.” I said, with pride.

“We’ll go to Husk's bar. I invite you to come with me.” Angel said.

“You’re going to pay?” Vaggie said incredulously.

“Hey, I’m just inviting you. Someone else should pay.” he said haughtily.

Charlotte was laughing.

I took off the mask and threw it away. I followed Mimzy to her office, behind the scenes. When she closed the door, she looked at me, annoyed.

“So? What do you say, Mimzy?” I said, “Don't you think she would be a fantastic support element for the festival?”

“She has a very good voice, but she lacks security on stage.” she said.

"Details; I am sure it is something that, with some practice, she will be able to overcome soon.” I said fluently, “The public knows when a show is good!”

“And I don't know whether to consider it as a solo show, because you went on stage with her.”

“I just wanted to be a part of such a fantastic performance.”

She stared at me in silence, crossing her arms.

“Alastor... Is there something between you and her that I don't know about?” she said suddenly.

I blinked, but remained unchanged.

“I don't know what you're talking about, dear.” I said naturally.

“I find your relationship as boss and servant very strange.” she commented.

“My relationships with people walk hand in hand with my particular style.” I said, making a gesture with my hand.

She frowned more.

“Alastor, if you don't give me an answer soon…” she said firmly.

“Patience, Mimzy.” I interrupted.

“Patience expires!” she said, upset.

I raised an eyebrow.

“This is not the time or the place to talk about it, my dear.” I said haughtily, “One issue at a time, and today's one is, in particular, the answer to the wonderful audition we just witnessed. As an investor, I give you my full support and acceptance.”

Mimzy was silent. Clearly biting the words she was trying to say. In the end, she took a deep breath in and exhaled.

“If it makes you happy, I'll let your servant sing as a show of support these days for the Mardi Gras festival.” she said reluctantly.

“I knew I could count on you, Mimzy.” I said, satisfied, “Now, I'm going to tell Charlotte. There are things that we still have pending, and it is now time for dinner.”

“Alastor.”

“Yes, dear?”

“About my patience, I was serious.” she said grimly.

I looked at her imploringly, but said nothing. I left her office and headed to Husk's bar. Charlotte was sitting on a stool and talking animatedly with Niffty, but stopped when she saw me arrive. She stood up straight.

I chuckled.

“Congratulations dear!” I exclaimed with encouragement “You did it!”

She squealed with excitement and massaged her cheeks fervently, while smiling. She was surrounded with words of congratulations from those present.

“You will be part of the show as support on the days of the festival,” I explained “Consider it as a trial period for something longer.”

“Thank you very much, Mister Alastor!” she said, looking at me with bright eyes.

Mimzy came up behind me and Charlotte enthusiastically approached her.

“Thank you, Miss Mimzy! I promise not to disappoint you with my performance!” she exclaimed.

Mimzy smiled her best and pinched her cheek.

“There is no thanks, it is always good to give opportunities to the less fortunate,” she told her.

Mimzy excused herself and withdrew. Her expectations of Charlotte's performance had once again frustrated her. Probably, a bottle of wine with her name on it was hidden under her desk, waiting for her to drink away her emotions.

“Charlotte, we have to think about your outfit!” Vaggie said seriously “We have very little time and we must think about the repertoire, the makeup…”

“Baby doll, you have to show those legs!” Angel said, raising an eyebrow “You could could give someone a heart attack with some transparency.”

“Don't be vulgar!” Vaggie chided him.

“Your singing is hypnotic, cutie!” Niffty congratulated her.

I sat on a stool and watched her enjoy her moment of glory. Husk was there, watching everything with his everlasting frown. I wanted to celebrate.

“A whiskey, Husk, please.” I said.

He growled and pulled out a bottle. He filled a glass and reluctantly handed it to me.

“Thank you, my friend.” I said smugly, and I drank.

I looked at Charlotte, who was laughing at an argument from Angel and Vaggie, about a little pig that had approached Angel.

“You gave up already, huh?” I heard Husk next to me, “I knew that a motherfucker like you couldn't resist that much.”

I looked at him. He was leaning against the bar, playing with a bottle of alcohol on his fingers.

“About what, my good friend?” I said with interest.

“Your maid. You both seem quite together.”

Instinctively I looked at Charlotte, who was talking animatedly with Angel Dust, asking questions of the pig and petting it.

“It doesn't bother me, but if Mimzy sees you like this, she'll leave the vodka shelf empty for customers.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” I said, feigning ignorance.

He snorted through his nose.

“Deny it as much as you want, weirdo. But I've seen those little glances and frolics that you find in many couples who come to this place for years.”

Charlotte turned to look at me for a moment and smiled at me, then continued to play with the pig.

“Just look at her! Her eyes shine like stars when she sees you! It's disgusting, but pretty obvious.”

I looked at my glass of whiskey. First Pentious, then Mimzy, and now Husk. This was starting to get really annoying. I put the glass down on the table and stood up.

“Have a good afternoon, my dear Husk.” I said, with pride.

I approached Charlotte, who was holding the pig like a baby.

“Put on your coat, dear, we have to go to Rosie.” I told her.

She smiled and returned the pig to Angel. She took my arm, before I offered it to her.

“See you tomorrow at one in the afternoon for the first rehearsal.” Vaggie said kindly.

“Yes. See you tomorrow.” Charlotte replied cheerfully.

“See you.” I said.

We quickly left the premises, heading towards Rosie's premises. And I looked at Charlotte expectantly. She wore her rosy cheeks and bit her lip, suppressing emotion.

“Did everything go as you expected?” I asked her.

“ It was even better!” she said, “I can't believe I'll have a chance to sing on a real stage!”

Suddenly she became serious and looked at me.

“Mister Alastor, I really appreciate your vote of confidence,” she said, “And I cannot do less than correspond with even greater commitment. Rehearsals are in the afternoon, so I'll clean everything overnight and leave dinner ready before I go in case…”

I laughed. Her level of responsibility and enthusiasm were delightful.

“Honey, I don't doubt that you have a whole system in place to keep things in order. So no, I won’t worry about that,” I said simply.

She unfolded a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. I reviewed it with curiosity. It was a list with schedules by activity. All underlined.

“I have everything written down here. The highlighted is what's important.” she said, with excitement.

“Everything is highlighted.” I noticed.

“All of it is important!” she said assuredly.

I laughed again. I folded the paper and handed it to her.

“You will have to accommodate the schedule of magic classes,” I said “And you did not contemplate enough hours of sleep for the schedule you are going to have.”

She was thoughtful.

“Right... Now that I think about it, we won't have time to…” she murmured.

“Yes darling?” I said with interest.

She blushed, in response. I chuckled.

“We'll think about that too.” I said haughtily.

She looked at me, worried, but said nothing.

We got to Rosie's place after a few minutes. The unmistakable “Open” sign was there, despite already having darkened. Rosie received us with her particular style.

“Dear friend, you honor me with your presence.” she said, in an almost sarcastic tone.

“Same to you, Rosie.” I said, in a similar tone.

“Charlotte, my dear! What a joy to see you!” she said, delighted.

“Good afternoon. It's been a long time since I've seen you.” Charlotte replied, smiling.

“Come in, please.” Rosie said, stepping aside.

Charlotte was about to take off her coat when Rosie exclaimed.

“Oh darling! Is that my coat? Goodness! I knew it would be divine!”

“I really liked it.” Charlotte said kindly, “Your design is really exquisite.”

“Oh, it's nothing. Still, Alastor paid well for it.” she said, glancing at me.

I still hadn't paid for that coat. And her mere mention of a high price rolled my eyes.

“I have no doubt that good quality is worth the cost.” I said with pride.

Rosie chuckled and leaned closer to Charlotte to whisper suggestively.

“And tell me, my dear... Have you been able to put the underwear I sent you to good use?”

Charlotte was shocked and blushed to the tips of her ears. I had to intervene immediately.

“Rosie, my dear, we're only passing through with you and we're already late,” I interrupted her.

“Oh, how awful,” Rosie said, feigning fright, “I apologize for my very modest question.”

She turned to me.

“And why are you both in such a hurry?”

“Pentious insisted on giving me a free dinner. So, I have to attend,” I said, examining my nails.

“Oh Pentious!” she said, putting her hand on her forehead, annoyed,“That strange man asked me to fix his top hat again. I told him it's an old-fashioned style. He has been wearing the same hat for ten years. I offered him other models, but he insists that he wants to keep it. I suppose it has sentimental value.”

“Dad established that fashion,” Charlotte said, with a smile, “He liked to wear a huge white hat, to disguise his stature. And his circle began to copy his style.”

“Oh, Apple Daddy was quite a case, but one of my best clients.” Rosie said, approaching a closet.

She began to rummage through old boxes while complaining.

“Whenever I came it was: ‘Rosie, my sleeves must match my skin tone.’ ‘Rosie, I want you to be able to embroider little apples on the edge of the sack.’ ‘Rosie, I want my hat to be whiter than the snow in the Alps.’”

Charlotte laughed.

“Yes, he really liked your clothes, Miss Rosie. But I don't deny that it was very demanding.” she said, in a conciliatory tone.

“And since he popularized the top hat... everyone wanted one! Mister Von Eldritch, Mister Stolas, Pentious himself. There was no upperclassman who didn't want an ‘original Rosie’ top hat for themselves,” Rosie said, pulling the dusty cardboard box out of the closet and approaching us.

She put the box on the tea table. We looked on curiously.

“The good thing is, I am always happy to keep a sample of my work.” Rosie said proudly.

Then, she uncapped the box. It was a white hat, with a strange purple snake as a bow and a small ceramic apple stuck to the side. Charlotte was speechless.

Charlotte took the hat with almost ceremonial care. She examined it carefully and sniffed it.

“I can't believe it, it even smells like dad." she said in a broken voice.

She wiped her eyes and put it on. She walked to the full-length mirror and smiled.

“It’s one of Dad’s hats.” she said with contained emotion.

“You look a lot like him.” Rosie said wistfully, “But I'm glad you inherited Lilith’s elegance. Your father was very cordial, but if you mentioned anything about his height, he would lose his temper.”

I snickered.

“Dad had one of these hats for every day of the week,” Charlotte said, admiring her reflection, “He started using it to look taller at investor meetings and in public. The first time he wore a white hat, I liked it so much that I borrowed it and adorned it with a stuffed purple snake and a little apple from a decorative bowl in the living room. I never imagined that Dad would like it so much that he would leave it as his personal seal and would replicate it on all his hats.”

“And then everyone made their hats have the most extravagant things, like eyes and feathers. It was a headache, albeit a very lucrative one,” Rosie said, annoyed.

Charlotte took off her hat and returned it to Rosie.

“Thank you so much for the memory, Miss Rosie.” Charlotte said sadly.

Rosie smiled at her and put it back in its place in the closet.

“By the way, honey, would you do me a favor?” Rosie said, “I was just about to make my afternoon chamomile tea. Can you go to the kitchen and see if the kettle has already boiled?”

“Of course.” Charlotte said immediately.

She went to the kitchen. I cast a sidelong glance at Rosie.

“Drinking tea?” I said.

“It is an herbal tea to sleep better. Coffee is not the best option at this time.” Rosie explained.

“It is if you don't want to face nightmares.” I said, shrugging, “So, why did you want us to be alone?”

Rosie smirked.

“Oh my friend.” she said, “I am a great observer, I must admit. And I think I can vouch that my assumptions the other day were not unfounded. Your countenance glows when you are with her.”

She put her hand on her chin.

“So I'm just waiting for you to ask me. I'd be offended if you didn't. I already have everything planned in my head.”

Rosie looked at me expectantly.

“I don't understand what you mean.” I said, surprised.

“Your groom’s suit!” she exclaimed, exasperated, “You have to wear an original ‘Rosie’ on your wedding day. With Charlotte's wedding dress, you don't have to worry. Apple Daddy left it paid for since she was a child. For some reason, he was afraid he wouldn't get to see her married, so he made sure of it long before.”

She put a hand on her cheek thoughtfully.

“But you have to ask me for your tuxedo, or they won't match when I design them. Obviously, that suit would go well with the black shoes that I have in the window. I already have some wonderful things in mind…”

I had to interrupt her excited ramblings.

“Rosie dear. You exaggerate the facts. There is no engagement between her and me. There is only…” I tried to explain, with an air of elegance.

“A lot of sex?” she said sarcastically.

I froze in my place. I started to wonder if people could really detect people who had been intimate just by looking at them. This already seemed like a bad joke, where everyone I knew seemed to be participating.

She laughed out loud.

“Oh, my friend. You’re so obvious.” she said, haughtily, “I have known you since you were that young man who cleaned boots in the corner of the bank.”

“What are you getting at?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“I never believed that you, Alastor, could fall for someone, not until sweet Charlotte came into your life. A beautiful and adorable girl, who has always liked coffee, warm in her treatment of you and... human! Which strikes me as an achievement, coming from you. Although it is not surprising that it took you so long to find someone that interested you; you are one of those who have more ideas than muscles, and seeing you with her is really gratifying.”

I frowned slightly.

“Frankly, I was waiting for the engagement to become official... but seeing you both so close made me think you already had plans, and wanted to ask me about your wedding attire.”

I had to clear my throat to hide my annoyance.

“Rosie, I think you misunderstand my relationship with Charlotte.” I said.

“And what is stopping you from clarifying it?” she said suspiciously.

At that moment, Charlotte arrived with a tray that had a cup of hot water, a jar with chamomile flowers and a spoon. She put it on the table and smiled.

“Here you go." she said.

“You are a sweetheart, honey.” Rosie said as she sat on the sofa.

“My dear, I think we will have to come another time.” I said, approaching Charlotte and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, Charlotte. When you have more important matters to deal with than just paying for everyday clothes.” Rosie said, stirring her tea.

I held back my sighs in exasperation and grabbed Charlotte's coat.

“See you later, Miss Rosie.” Charlotte said, delighted.

Naturally, she helped me button my coat and straighten my bowtie. I looked at Rosie out of the corner of her eye, and she was having a hard time holding back her laughter.

“Well, let's go, dear! A free dinner awaits us!” I said, pushing Charlotte to the exit, “Bye, Rosie!”

We went outside and I closed the door tightly. I offered Charlotte my arm and we walked in strides toward Antoine's Restaurant. Charlotte had trouble keeping up with me, but I didn't slow down. My head was in chaos and my stomach was tight.

They all hinted at it. Everyone noticed it. Most were happy at that prospect. It seemed that suddenly, every person I knew was at an advantage over me. Looking at me almost with superiority. From holding myself in a high position to feeling lowered by what I saw as mere mortals, left me baffled and terribly uncomfortable. I didn't know how to stop feeling like this and get back to normal. This was all new to me.

After several minutes of silence and a long walk, I heard Charlotte speaking to me.

“Mister Alastor... is everything alright?” she said breathlessly.

“Oh yes, honey, I just have annoying thoughts hanging around my head,” I said calmly.

“Anything I can help with?” she said worriedly.

“Nothing I can't handle alone, dear. Do not worry.”

That seemed to calm her down a bit.

We arrived at the restaurant and saw Pentious at the entrance, walking from one side to the other. He seemed quite concerned. I completely ignored it and we approached the meter.

“Good evening, we want a table for…” I said to the manager.

“ALASTOR!” we heard Pentious yell.

I frowned in annoyance. With my best face, I turned to meet him.

“Greetings Pentious.” I said.

“You did come!” he said, delighted, “And you brought this lovely lady back.”

He looked at Charlotte sympathetically and made an exaggerated bow.

“You are welcome to my humble restaurant.” he said, with bright eyes.

“Thank you very much for your invitation.” Charlotte said.

She looked nervous. I sensed that the feeling of guilt for having stolen the photograph of her family still weighed on her.

“Come this way!” Pentious said, “I kept a really cozy place for you.”

We followed him to a rather pompous table, with cutlery of various sizes next to white plates, and a white tablecloth. The seats consisted of a huge horseshoe-shaped sofa with a padded back and a wooden base, attached to the wall. There was a chandelier with three candles in the center of the table. And last but not least, a bouquet of red roses in a vase, along with an expensive bottle of wine.

“Is it to your liking?” he said hopefully.

“It's very pretty, really!” Charlotte said enthusiastically.

“It looks really adequate, my dear Pentious.” I said soberly.

Pentious seemed beside himself.

“How magnificent!” he said delightfully.

We sat at the table and he called a waiter to attend us.

“Anything you need, you can let me know. You are free to eat until you burst. Nothing I wouldn't do for my favorite partner.” he said happily.

And he bounded away.

“He is always... kind in his way.” Charlotte said, with a tight smile.

“In his very particular style.” I stressed.

Even though the beef steak was up to scratch and we talked lively about rehearsals and everything that came and excited Charlotte, I was tense. Everything they had told me during the journey of the day was making me rethink my actions and the evidence which I was noticing. I felt vulnerable. I did not like it.

I looked at Charlotte, who was drinking gracefully from her glass. Her candlelit countenance accentuated her creamy elegance and sophistication.

“Dad taught me how to drink since I was a child.” she said to me, “You always have to taste the body of the wine in small sips, and not just drink it with the intention of getting drunk.”

“Your uncle had a bad habit of drinking heavily.” I said.

“Yes,” Charlotte said in dismay, “By the way, do you think it's wise to ask Sir Pentious if you've heard anything else from him?”

“Probably, after the fight we had, he can't appear in public.”

I drank my wine and sighed.

“I think I'll be out for one of them soon.”

“One of them?”

“Haven't you noticed, my dear?” I said with a big smile, “It's been almost a month since my last ‘community service.’”

“Oh. You were referring to some criminal…” I saw Charlotte stir uneasily instead. I noticed how her white skin stood on end, as she gave me a meaningful look. Her reaction seemed to be a confirmation of something I had long suspected: her excitement in regards to death.

I took her chin and moved closer to whisper in her ear.

“What is that, my dear? Do I see longing in your gaze? Does the idea of killing criminals excite you?”

She opened her eyes wide and pursed her lips. She seemed completely sorry for my discovery.

“I don't know... It's just that sometimes I imagine what you must look like doing that ‘job,’ sir,” she admitted, while fiddling with a lock of hair.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I suppose you must like what you imagine.” I concluded.

She blushed. That was an affirmation. It was strange, but I was extremely pleased that she was used to the idea of my activities. It was much less cumbersome and liberating to be able to discuss these issues with someone who did not flinch in horror, or immediately consider calling the authorities.

Suddenly, I noticed our closeness, already so natural and spontaneous for us. I had the urge to kiss her, but we were in a public place. So, I put some space between us, immediately. I raised my hand and called a waiter.

“Do you want a dessert, dear?” I said cordially.

Charlotte looked at me, confused, but nodded.

She ordered a crême brûlée and I watched her as she drank the black coffee. She looked completely adorable enjoying her dessert.

I had declared that she was my downfall. And that was what I really felt. But I could not understand the ease with which people calmly accepted their own doom in the hands of the being that interested them more than others. It was like voluntarily handing over the domain of their own thoughts and emotions to another person, at the risk that they could get hurt. It wasn't right. I was not calm. Feeling that my calm, my safety and my complete vulnerability depended on that girl in front of me, was terrifying. And if this situation was to continue over time or even worsen, it could be really catastrophic for me. I had to do something about it, and soon.

Suddenly, Pentious approached us and looked at us smugly.

“Sooooo?” he said mischievously.

“So what?” I said, cocking my head.

“Where's the ring?” he said, brushing the palms of his hand.

“What are you talking about?” Charlotte said.

I closed my eyes and ordered my shadow to distract him. I felt it lift off my feet and the next thing we heard was a loud crash of broken dishes from the restaurant kitchen.

The sound alerted Pentious.

“What happened?! Oh, those useless fools!” he yelled angrily, and hurried to the kitchen.

We heard Pentious' furious screams at his employees behind the door. That was my signal.

“Let's go, Charlotte.” I said, standing up.

Charlotte looked shocked, but she didn't argue with me. She took her coat and followed me to the exit.

“Shouldn't we be saying goodbye to Mister Pentious?” she said worriedly.

“Right now, he's pretty busy.” I said.

The ride home was pretty quiet. Neither on the tram nor on the walk home did we attempt to strike up a conversation.

Charlotte looked concerned; diametrically opposed to how excited she had been a couple of hours ago over the acceptance of her audition.

“My dear, I think it is time to start magic classes.” I said.

She was startled.

“Really? Now?” she said, confused.

“Nothing better than a good night to start,” I said, “Come with me to my workshop.”

Between excitement and nervousness, she followed me. We went down to the basement, and as I opened the door to my ritual room, I snapped my fingers. Cold flames from the fireplace ignited, illuminating the small room. And, with a signal from my hand, I gave her the invitation to come in.

“Learning magic will be quite simple for you, since you are good at Latin,” I said, approaching the center table, “And using the grimoire spells will be quite simple.”

Charlotte looked at the little doll on the mound of salt and sighed.

“I don't have to kill anyone, do I?” she said nervously.

“I intend to teach you simple things. But maybe it requires you to kill one or two chickens, sweetheart,” I said simply.

“I suppose it is inevitable.” she commented, grimacing.

I laughed and showed her the loose sheets of paper.

“Since you're hardly a novice, you may want to start with some spells that can be quite practical in your routine,” I said, “But to reach my level you will need a lot of practice. Threading your fingers to achieve something is something that requires a lot of experience.”

“So I have to say the spells written in Latin?” she asked.

“Start with this one,” I said, pointing to a sentence on one of the pages, “just by saying that spell, you can light a fire. You’ll probably need several tries, and I wouldn't be surprised if you don”t get much done now, but it’s good to start with something.”

I put a candle on the floor and stepped aside.

“Now focus and visualize the fire. When you feel ready, say the spell.”

Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment. She seemed very focused. Then she opened her eyes, looked at the candle and whispered.

“Ignis,” she said.

A powerful flame appeared from the wick of the candle, rising to lick the ceiling. I was genuinely surprised by such an overwhelming fire and couldn't help but laugh with glee. It was a sign of true power. I looked at Charlotte, who was staring at the fire she herself had summoned, totally amazed. She was completely shocked by what a little word could generate.

Thus, as explosively as it came, the flame died out a few seconds later. The ceiling had gone black and what was left of the candle was just a huge, melted white stain and a tiny black wick that finished burning in a puff of smoke.

“What a performance, my dear!” I exclaimed euphorically.

Charlotte held her chest and blinked several times.

“This... does that usually happen?" she said, regaining her composure.

“Never in my life!” I exclaimed, “This is the first time I have seen such a manifestation of power!”

“Why...?” she tried to say.

“I think this has been enough for today,” I interrupted, “I will have to change my work plan with you. You are clearly on a much larger scale than I thought. For now, we must rest.”

She seemed to understand what I was trying to tell her subtly, because she did not refute me. It was a question I didn't want to answer.

We prepared to sleep and share my bed again.

In the dark, she was looking at me. She didn't say a word, but the signs in her gestures were evident. I sighed and stroked her hair.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” I said, and turned around.

I didn't hear her complain, although I was sure she was dying to do it. She did not touch me, nor did she make a sound. I remained motionless, my back to her.

After a few moments I felt her roll over in bed.

“Good night, Mister Alastor.” I heard her say.

It took me a long time to fall asleep. I had a lot to think about what decisions were best suited to the situation I was facing. That day had been particularly revealing, and the real, palpable prospect was, to say the least, bewildering and overwhelming. Charlotte was like a vibrating lantern that radiated light into my life, but that same light also captivated others. My discomfort grew as I put my ideas in order. I thought about my plan a lot. It was quite risky, but I thought it was for the best. I wanted to stop feeling like this.

In the days that followed, I accompanied Charlotte to her rehearsals at Mimzy's Palace. Charlotte was making an incredible effort to keep up with the instructions given, but she seemed to adapt quite well. On those occasions I took advantage of talking with Mimzy about the business and the plans I had for the shows, although I almost always ended up drunk and asleep at the bar. During the night, we practiced magic. Charlotte was advancing by leaps and bounds. She was already able not only to control the intensity of the fire she conjured, but to attract and launch objects such as chairs and cans, turn on and project lights, as well as being able to levitate objects at will. Curiously, she managed to make rainbows in her hands, although it was something I had never shown her. All this, added to the daily chores at home, ended up leaving her very exhausted.

I continued to avoid being intimate with her. Charlotte felt the distance I had imposed, but she said nothing to me. I even stopped letting her button my coat and fix my tie. We continued to share the bed a few days after the day of the audition, but I soon excused myself, saying that I was feeling unwell and that it would be best if she returned to her own room.

Charlotte seemed genuinely affected by my sudden detachment, but she kept trying to give her all to accomplish in every activity she had engaged in. Her face was constantly drained and she drank more coffee than usual, but she did not falter. She was truly admirable in her persistence, and continued strong.

But there was a breaking point. The next Friday night, since Charlotte had been taught magic, it was really late and I hadn't warned her. According to my watch, it was around three in the morning. I entered the house and Charlotte was not waiting for me in front of the fireplace like she had a couple of weeks ago when I was attacked by the dog. Surely, it was because she already knew that I was much more dangerous than anything in New Orleans.

I took off my coat and headed to my room. I felt tired and my head was heavy.

Suddenly, I heard a door opening. I turned to see Charlotte, who was standing and in her nightgown, leaving her room. She approached me with a worried face.

“Mister Alastor!” she exclaimed “I'm so glad to see you well.”

“Good evening.” I said quietly.

“Did you have to do a ‘community service?’” she said curiously.

“No. I was out late talking to someone. I thought it was the right time,” I said.

She cocked her head in confusion.

“Are you alright, Mister Alastor?” she said, concerned.

“I accepted Mimzy's proposal,” I said.

Charlotte stood, eyes widening from the impact of my words. She opened her mouth several times, unable to utter a word.

“What did you say?” she finally said in a solemn voice.

“You heard me, my dear: I am going to marry Mimzy.” I said calmly, putting my hands behind my back.

Tense moments of silence arrived. Charlotte's head seemed not to want to believe what she was saying. She stood motionless and still in the darkness of the hallway. She looked about ready to hit me, as evidenced by her altercation with Katie. But the blow never came.

Suddenly, she took a few steps towards me and looked at me. Her eyes were bright with tears, but determined.

“Mister Alastor, I have seen you more distant for days. And although you never said anything to me, nor did I ask your reasons, I trusted you. But I cannot understand this,” she said, hurt.

I looked at her. She was on the verge of tears. Her fists were clenched tight and she kept her eyes on me.

“Please, I need to know what happened. Why did you wait until now to tell me? Why didn't you tell me that you really planned to marry her from the start before we...?” she said in a choked voice, clenching her teeth helplessly.

I closed my eyes and snorted. I put my hand on the latch and looked disapprovingly at her.

“Remember my rule: Don't ask me questions I don't want to answer.” I said calmly.

I turned to my bedroom door and closed it behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!
> 
> And as a method to beat the quarantine, I will upload 3 chapters during these 7 days ; w;
> 
> I leave you the playlist of the songs that come in this chapter:
> 
> Doris Day ~~~ It All Depends On You https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_CDAy_Em2Y
> 
> Toxic Love - Ferngully - female cover by Elsie Lovelock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8_WBqpdu2g
> 
> Deal With The Devil - the Speakeasies' Swing Band! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6EWsbaKWI4
> 
> YOU HAVE TO SEE THESE GIRLS 'TWITTER! THEY ARE FANTASTIC!!
> 
> @DarklART https://twitter.com/DarklART
> 
> @ yesiktz95 https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> @lilish_chan https://twitter.com/lilish_chan
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20
> 
> by Yesi Muñoz
> 
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Follow me on Twitter:
> 
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


	14. Solve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To dissolve.

I arrived at the house around ten at night, carrying my purse and the huge bag of clothes Vaggie had given me. I really didn't feel like seeing Mister Alastor after spending most of the afternoon listening to Miss Mimzy's chatter about the delicate lace of her wedding dress to a very disinterested Husk; she spoke loud enough so that anyone who passed did not miss any details. I even had the impression that she raised her tone when she saw me closeby.

During rehearsals, Miss Mimzy's attitude had been completely arrogant towards me, since the night that Mister Alastor had told me that he had accepted her marriage proposal. As soon as we were all in rehearsal that day, Miss Mimzy called us to share her “good news.” Her complete happiness was palpable and the stake in my heart was even more painful.

I sighed in front of the front door. It was the first time that I had arrived so late from the rehearsal, and I was sorry to have left the dinner made before I left, it had given me true grief to have left Mister Alastor dining alone.

The house was in darkness when I entered. It was time for Mister Alastor to sleep, so I was relieved to know that I wouldn't have to see him today. Trying to focus on rehearsals and my work was the only thing that kept me going since he had confirmed to me that he was going to marry Miss Mimzy.

The days since the announcement were a horrible nightmare.

*******

After he had confirmed his engagement to Miss Mimzy as official, I immediately felt the edge of his words tearing at my chest. It left me broken. My heart, my dreams and hopes were shattered in a single withering second. I couldn't cry. I couldn't scream. I couldn't vent my frustration. It was like a lethal blow to life that kept me from reacting. His words were like a death sentence and I had not committed any crime.

He had stared at me, still smiling, expectant to my reaction. I don't know what he expected from me. A sincere congratulation? A recrimination? An attack of anger and tears? But whatever he was waiting for didn’t come. I stood for a long time looking at the door of Mister Alastor's room, once he had gone to bed.

And since that day, I had not spoken to Mister Alastor again.

The first two days I did not distinguish day from night, I did not say a word. I felt dead inside. Everything around me was muffled sounds. I did my work by inertia. It was as if all the music and happiness had escaped from my body. Mister Alastor didn’t even try to strike up a conversation, unlike the time I shied away from him when I learned of his identity as “The Vigilante.” Instead, he left without breakfast in the morning, and in the evening, sat next to me at dinner in complete silence. He thanked me for the food, and went to sleep. There was no more laughter. There were no more spontaneous songs. There was nothing left of what we were together just a few days ago.

I couldn't cry either. My heart was too stunned to do anything else. I could only think of Mister Alastor, and at the same time, I did not want to. I couldn't blame him for anything. I couldn't demand a reason from him that he had become engaged to Miss Mimzy. Was he not happy with my company as he had told me, leaving me completely convinced? He had not told me that he loved me. He hadn't told me we were going to get married. He hadn't even hinted at any concrete plans. There was only informal intimacy between us. He was still my boss, and I was still his employee. But there had been something else in our looks and our daily treatment. I knew that. I felt that way. Nothing formal. A relationship without names. With nothing but hopes for my deluded heart. And so, I was happy.

I didn’t want to see him. His presence hurt me. But the worst thing was that I couldn't avoid him because, due to the rehearsals, he was present for most of the time that I was at Mimzy’s Palace. I had to put up with the long rehearsal sessions listening to him laugh at Miss Mimzy's chatter.

Vaggie had repeatedly scolded me for being distracted.

“Are you okay, Charlotte?” she asked me after the fourth time I had forgotten the lyrics of the song.

“Yeah, yeah... I'm just a little distracted. Don’t worry.” I had told her.

“Does it have something to do with...?” she said, throwing a significant look at Mister Alastor and Miss Mimzy.

I stared at them as I listened to Mimzy laugh loudly at a joke from Mister Alastor. I lowered my head and started to check the sheet again.

“I’m fine, Vaggie.” I said “I just need to go wash my face.”

“Hey, little doll.” I heard someone say behind me.

It was Angel Dust, leaning towards me curiously.

“Not that it's my concern, but I seriously believed that things were serious between you and Mr. Smiles.” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Angel!” Vaggie scolded him.

“What?” he defended himself “It’s strange, he was so close with this girl and suddenly engaged to another. Although in my favor, Miss Mimzy hasn't complained about Fat Nuggets in days.”

He laughed. I just lowered my head in sorrow. I thought I saw Angel’s expression change to one of compassion, and he looked as if he was going to tell me something, but then just quietly left.

That day, after rehearsal, I was walking down the hall to the backstage when suddenly I heard a little upset scream. I peeked into the dressing rooms and saw a strange scene. Angel Dust was trying to get the attention of his little pig, Fat Nuggets, who was getting closer to Mister Alastor.

“Come, come here Fat Nuggets” Angel said desperately “Come with daddy.”

“No, no, no. Come here, little one, I'm sure some sautéed potatoes and some hot sauce would do you good.” Mister Alastor was saying to him maliciously.

“No! Come here, baby!” Angel said, with a nervous smile.

The little pig seemed to ponder about it for a moment, until he decided to approach Mister Alastor, who took him in his arms and smiled broadly at him.

“Give him to me!” Angel said, out of his mind.

“Oh? Does this little creature matter so much to you?” he said, raising an eyebrow “Sooner or later someone will eat it, and as the future owner of this place, it wouldn't be a bad pay for all the props that this chubby friend has ruined. Or do you want to face the consequences from your future boss?”

Angel Dust clutched at his hair desperately and Mister Alastor laughed loudly. It was then that I decided to intervene.

“Give him back, please, Mister Alastor.” I said sternly, “Angel will take better care of him from now on. Fat Nuggets is very important to him.”

Angel looked at me hopefully and then knelt down in front of Mister Alastor.

“Yes, I will take better care of him! Just give him back to me, please!” pleaded Angel.

Mister Alastor looked me in the eye. I could swear he had been surprised by my meddling, after so many days of silence. We looked at each other for a few moments, with a defiant air. Finally, he sighed in annoyance.

“You don’t have to be mad, dear. It was just a joke.” he said, downplaying it.

Then, he extended to Angel Dust the little pig, who hugged him and kissed his lost baby like a mother.

“Oh, my fat little naughty one! Don’t you scare me like that again!” he said dramatically.

Fat Nuggets oinked tenderly. Angel looked at me with a small smile, took one of my cheeks between his long fingers and squeezed it.

“Thanks, little doll, I owe you one.” he said, winking at me.

He walked away as fast as he could with the little pig in his arms.

I kept my eyes on the point where Angel had left the room, only to avoid having to look at my boss again. He cleared his throat, trying to get my attention.

“It's nice to hear your voice after so many days, darling.” he told me.

I twitched my face slightly.

“If you'll excuse me, I'm late for my rehearsal.” I said, without looking at him.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, with a firm step, I left the locker room and went to the stage.

It was strange how I felt. My initial sadness at seeing him with another woman had subsided and the anger I felt had prompted me to speak out just moments ago. Mister Alastor, flaunting the new attributes he had for being the owner's fiancé, was really annoying. He always liked to rub off the privileges he had to others, but using them as a threat to turn Fat Nuggets into his dinner seemed abusive.

I took several breaths on the way to the stage. I had to calm down.

I stayed focused as much as I could on the lyrics and on anything other than Mister Alastor. He had turned up to watch the cast rehearsals while he was overwhelmed by Mimzy's attentions. He seemed quite amused to see her criticize her employees in the midst of her actions, forcing them to repeat until it went well. With Angel, she had a fight about the blonde wig that he would wear, because it did not allow him to see well, but he insisted that his fans adored that wig.

When it was my turn, I got nervous in the middle of the stage.

“Well, Charlotte, what proposal do you have?” Vaggie said kindly.

Miss Mimzy’s giggles at a comment from Mister Alastor distracted me for a moment.

“Um... I was thinking of using the same song that I used in the audition,” I said, unsure, gripping my forearm.

“Oh, but this has to be a solo show,” Mimzy said suddenly.

She was looking at me with her big eyes and a smile that was far from friendly.

“I remind you that you cannot have an interpretation with an assistant. The voiceless musical interlude is too long, so I suggest a shorter song.” she added.

“Oh,” I said uncomfortably.

“But you should sing your song!” Mister Alastor commented loudly.

I looked at him, nervous and angry. He had a countenance of tranquility and pride.

“No, sir. It’s not convenient to showcase a new melody on such a busy stage,” I said neutrally.

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, reaching a hand into his jacket. “I’m sure that what you have written here has everything it needs to be a success.”

Panic made me react instantly to see my notebook in the hands of Mister Alastor.

“How did you get that?” I said indignantly.

“It was on the bar table, dear. If you don't want your privacy exposed, you should be more meticulous in hiding it,” he said simply.

I got off the stage and went straight to him. I tried to grab my notebook, but he was much taller than me and easily able to extend it out of my reach.

“I'll give it back to you, on the condition that you sing your song,” he said with a smug smile.

The colors faded from my face and a cold sweat ran down my back.

“Sing my song here? Oh, no, no, no, no. NO.” I exclaimed sharply.

“How modest, my dear!” Alastor interrupted me.

He started to drag me over to the piano.

“I’m sure it will be perfect. If you put all your passion into it, I have no doubt that it will be brilliant.”

His eternal smile and the threat of my notebook made my plea falter. I looked around and, seeing the interest of everyone present, I was caught in his request. I sighed with regret.

“If you insist, I guess…” I said quietly.

“Splendid!” he yelled, spreading his arms, “I’m eager to hear it.”

He handed me my notebook. I looked at him in annoyance before sighing heavily. I looked up the music sheet that I had from so long ago, but had not been able to add lyrics until that same day. I settled into the piano seat. I took a deep breath and took one last look at Mister Alastor. He nodded confidently at me

Oh Lord. I begged that he wouldn't understand the lyrics.

A sweet and melancholic melody came from the piano. I was nervous, but I gathered all the courage I had left to start singing.

**I sense there's something in the wind**

**That feels like tragedy's at hand**

**And though I'd like to stand by him**

**Can't shake this feeling that I have**

**The worst is just around the bend**

**And does he notice my feelings for him?**

**And will he see how much he means to me?**

**I think it's not to be**

I looked at my audience. Mister Alastor was looking at me expectantly. Vaggie was smiling broadly and Angel raised an eyebrow with interest. Only Mimzy maintained a neutral expression.

I took a breath for the next stanza with more confidence.

**Under a tree at quarter three,**

**I had some hope in me**

**But life was taken from me,**

**but I did not feel peace**

**I made a vow within my gown**

**that love will come to me**

**but then he came and suddenly had been found**

**I adore him**

Mister Alastor approached and propped his elbow on the head of the piano as he watched me. I looked down and kept singing, inspired.

**What will become of my dear friend**

**Where will his actions lead us then?**

**Although I'd like to join the crowd**

**In their enthusiastic cloud**

**Try as I may, it doesn't last...**

I raised my eyes and we looked at each other. All the pain and sadness that I had experienced for him had turned into anger. A fury fueled by how that man had made me feel encouraged me. I didn't stop singing.

**What is this? a painful twist?**

**is this a bitter kiss?**

**There’s so much life left in his eyes,**

**it should not end like this**

**My dreams were slain,**

**my face was stained with memories of my pain**

**But peace still came, I'll give him the same,**

**and I will be okay**

I looked down slowly and closed my eyes.

**And will we ever end up together?**

**No, I think not, it's never to become**

**For I am not the one**

I gave the last keys of the melody and stopped playing. Everyone present began to applaud, some with more enthusiasm than others. I stood up and took my notebook.

“What a beautiful melody!” Vaggie said enthusiastically “You really are very talented!”

“You are quite a show under all that blonde hair, girl.” Angel said, pinching my cheeks, “It would definitely be a waste not to support that potential. You will be the second best in this place in no time. After me, of course.”

Fat Nuggets jumped from his lap into my arms and looked at me with his big tender eyes. I returned a half smile. I turned to Mister Alastor, who was still standing by the piano.

“That's my song, Mister Alastor.” I said seriously "What did you think?”

“Magnificent, as I expected, darling.” he said, shrugging “It is evident that every message sounds better with music.”

I frowned, upset, and handed Fat Nuggets over to Angel.

“It is a lovely song.” said Miss Mimzy, suddenly “Is it inspired by any personal experience?”

I tensed.

“No. Just pure, simple, and crazy imagination,” I said neutrally.

I put on my coat.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go now. I still have to prepare dinner.” I said, taking my bag.

Mister Alastor approached me and smiled at me.

“It was certainly a nice rehearsal, but it is time for us to get out of here.” he said.

“You don't have to come with me. I can take care of myself.” I rebutted his offer without looking at him.

“Oh, of course I can't leave you alone, my dear. This city is very dangerous for a young woman like you.” he said, cocking his head.

“Are you leaving so soon?” Mimzy said with obvious annoyance “Oh come on, stay another while. The whiskey is on the house.”

“It sounds tempting, but it's getting late and I have to get up early tomorrow.” he said, raising his hand, “Isn't that right, my dear?” he said, offering me his arm.

“Goodnight everyone." I said to those present.

I walked directly to the entrance, ignoring his offer. I felt everyone’s eyes on the back of my neck as I went out the front door.

I didn't want to look rude, but I really didn't want to be in my personal refuge with him around me anymore. Everything about him bothered me. Seeing him so calm, petulant, and almost ironic before me, knowing clearly why I wasn't speaking to him, and still maintaining an innocent air. Did he expect things to stay the same as it always had been?

From that day on, I started avoiding him. I gave up magic classes to save until the Mardi Gras season was over, to which he did not protest. But, I practiced in my spare time in my room. I stayed longer at rehearsals on purpose, or I just didn’t have dinner with him anymore. I ate before he could, leaving to my room before he got home from work.

Everything was too painful, and I was getting tired of feeling like this.

*******

I closed the front door. I put the dress bag on the floor while I took off my coat and hung it on the rack. Frankly, I had no appetite, so I tried to get to the kitchen to wash the dirty dishes he had left, without making a sound. Then, I would go straight to bed.

But, a switch followed by the dim light from the living room reading lamp scared me halfway to the kitchen.

I went into the living room and saw Mister Alastor sitting on his sofa, with one leg crossed, peering at me with his eyes and a glass of whiskey in his hand. His smile had a strange air of malice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Good evening, Charlotte." he said with a note of amusement in his voice “I'm glad you got home well. I was about to send my shadow to find you.”

“Mister Alastor, good evening,” I said as flatly as possible, “I'm sorry for the delay. I had to stay a little longer today. I couldn't decide which dress was best for my debut. Although, I’ll have to adapt the length of the neckline of the back. It is too pronounced for me,” I explained, showing him the bag I was carrying.

“I have no doubt you will do a great job fixing it, my dear,” he said, glancing sideways at me as he swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers.

“Thank you very much sir.” I said with apprehension.

There were a few moments of silence as I waited for him to tell me something else, but he kept watching the amber liquid in his glass move.

“If you'll excuse me, I'll go wash the dirty dishes that…” I tried to say.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“It was a shame to eat alone again.”

“Again, I'm sorry for the delay, sir.”

I felt the tension begin to increase. My hands were held so tightly around the bag I was carrying that my knuckles had turned white. I was a bundle of nerves.

“You have been avoiding me.” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“No! I’ve only been busier, sir.” I lied “The rehearsals have taken longer than I expected, but I've been concerned about keeping control of the house as my main priority, so I…”

“Until Tuesday, there had been no problem with you having dinner with me on time after rehearsals.” he interrupted me “But now you fall asleep earlier on the days when you don’t have rehearsal, and you arrive too late on the days when you have to go sing.”

“I’m just nervous about my act, sir.” I tried to refute, but my voice faltered “Do you think I don't want to see you?”

But it was true. I was avoiding him. I had been very distant with him these days and I had been trying to arrive after nine o’clock at night in order to know that he was asleep so I didn't have to see him or talk to him. My chest ached from having him around. It burned me that I couldn’t sincerely congratulate him on his engagement. Knowing that he was going to belong to another woman. Knowing that I should forget him and keep working for him and his new wife made me feel worse. I tried to think of what I could do to stay away from him. But oddly, that bothered him. Although it was he himself who had imposed a wall between us.

I watched him, sitting in his chair. I scolded myself mentally as I considered him handsome. I couldn't help but feel a powerful attraction to him. But their engagement only made me feel guilt, and a horrible sadness knowing that all my hopes had been shattered on the ground.

Mister Alastor narrowed his eyes at me before saying anything.

“You're not good at lying, Charlotte.” he said with resignation, as he stood up, “I had at least I hoped you would try harder this time to justify yourself.”

He downed what was left of his whiskey in one gulp and put the empty glass on the coffee table. My nervousness at his presence kept me from looking him in the eye.

“Show me the dress." he suddenly ordered.

“Oh well, here...” I said awkwardly trying to get the dress out of the bag.

“No,” he interrupted me with a chuckle “I want to see it on you.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

“What did you just say?” I said stammering.

“As a future co-owner of the Mimzy’s palace, I need to have an objective vision of what type of clothing the local workers will wear,” he said, throwing a sideways glance at me as he headed for the stairs, “I will be waiting for you in my room. You can occupy the full-length mirror so that you can better contemplate yourself.”

Before I could think of something smart to say, he was already climbing the stairs.

I stood there with my mouth open. All the warning signs in my head went off, and after a few seconds, I realized that I had stopped breathing. I knew the only reason why he would have invited me to his room to model a dress that showed so much skin in front of him... and that only reason was causing a panic attack in me.

Should a lady visit an engaged man’s room? Should I be obedient and go according to his command? He was my boss after all.

I swallowed hard and headed up the stairs and then to the bathroom. I washed my face and took a deep breath.

“It’s just an order, nothing more. He is my boss and he will also own the place where I’m going to sing. It is only critical modeling.” I thought over and over, as I took off my clothes.

I took the red dress from the bag and hesitated a moment before putting it on. It was a body-hugging suit, with thin straps and a cut on the right leg at thigh height. It looked good on my chest, with the V-neckline showing a generous panorama of my round white breasts. And finally, a deep cleavage in the back, and without seeing it, I felt it coming dangerously close to the line of my bottom. I had to put it on without a bra, so I felt even more exposed. It had another opening that allowed my right leg to be seen above the thigh. I put on my garter stockings, traded my shoes for the matching high-heeled shoes, and unconsciously started arranging my hair to one side to do my new suit justice.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Everything looked good. I sighed again, and went to Mister Alastor’s room with some difficulty, due to the thinness of the heels.

“It’s just an order, nothing more. He is my boss and he will also own the place where I’m going to sing. It is only critical modeling.” I was mentally repeating myself.

Awkwardly, I knocked on the door, even though it was open.

“Come in.” I heard him say.

With one last deep breath, I entered the room.

“Excuse me sir.” I said in a whisper.

He was standing by the window, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say anything to me, just watched me and waved me over to the mirror.

Aware that my cheeks were red, I walked with my eyes glued to the floor until I reached the mirror.

I really liked what I saw. The dress really accentuated my kindest points. It didn't seem as gross as I imagined. But, when I turned enough to see my back in the reflection, I was discouraged. I was right, the back neckline needed to be reduced. In horror, I noticed that the line of my bottom could be seen, but it was only part of the garter belt. However, what affected me the most were the shining scars on my back. I still felt how each one of them hurt me for every whipping I received a long time ago. I posed a little more for myself, absorbed in being objective with the details and where I should make reductions.

I then noticed that Mister Alastor had been watching me closely the entire time. I stood up and put my hands on my back. I waited for a verdict.

“So... do you think this dress is suitable?” I said, looking at him shyly.

“It's the woman and not the dress, darling.” he said, smiling, “Frankly, you look incredibly beautiful.”

I blushed with guilt and turned to the mirror again.

“My scars don’t feel the same way.” I said as I straightened my hair to one side.

Mister Alastor approached me. I froze in my place when I felt him stand behind me and take me by my bare shoulders.

“Oh, your back is perfect, Charlotte.” he said very close to my ear. A chill ran down my entire spine, “These scars are a part of your story with me.”

And, using one of his hands, he started tracing the shape of my scars with his fingertips. From the closest to the shoulder, up to the waist.

“It is not an attractive image for the public to expose such damaged skin.” I stuttered at the touch of Mister Alastor.

“If you are concerned about not being attractive because of these scars, you are terribly wrong, my dear,” he whispered in my ear, “I like them.”

His fingers had already reached the edge of the scars that the cleavage allowed to be seen. Then, his hand slid down my hip, landing on my belly. The smell and heat radiating from his body did not let me think. My skin bristled and I was sure he had noticed.

“Be honest, Charlotte,” he said, “why have you been avoiding me?”

I held my breath and shook my head. He passed his fingertips from my shoulder to the elbow.

“You are angry with me,” he insisted. His breath brushed against the skin of my neck.

My silence seemed to confirm it. He huffed in amusement.

I opened my eyes and saw our reflections. Mister Alastor was looking at me from the mirror, resting his chin on my bare shoulder. His smile and confident gaze had a hint of wickedness. My face was flushed, and my eyes were glowing strangely. Something I saw made me realize that this was wrong. That he shouldn't touch me like that, that he was going to be with another woman very soon. But, I didn't want him to stop looking at me the way he was doing.

“M-Mister Alastor, you are engaged...” I said, almost out of breath, “Miss Mimzy... Miss...”

“If you care so much... why do you let me touch you?” he whispered maliciously in my ear.

I had to suppress a moan by pressing my lips together. I knew that he was going to soon marry Miss Mimzy, but there I was, letting Mister Alastor move his hand from my shoulder to my neck, as he made me throw my head back. Mister Alastor began to kiss my shoulder, and when he reached my neck, he ran his tongue from the base of my jugular to my ear. I felt electricity throughout my body and moaned loudly. My legs were shaking, and my underwear felt strangely hot.

“I’ve always liked your natural scent, Charlotte,” he whispered, and took a deep breath in my hair.

“S-sir... we shouldn’t...” I tried to say with the last bit of willpower I had left, “Why are you doing thi-?”

“Silence, my dear,” he commanded me by putting his thumb on my lips.

My head was a jumble of new thoughts and feelings. I was at his mercy and, worst of all, I was allowing it. I was completely submissive to his touch. I felt euphoric, guilty, glorious.

He removed his thumb from my mouth and turned me to him. We stood face to face, looking at each other in silence. He was looking at me with a mocking expression. He brought his hand up to my chin and raised my face. In a sudden movement he kissed me in an intense, awkward, longing way. He had my face cradled in his hands. I longed so much for his kisses and caresses, as if nothing had happened.

Then, something clicked in my head. I tensed up and stopped cooperating with the kiss. He noticed that and moved away from me to look at me, curious.

“No,” I said, frowning.

His smile gave way a little and he widened his eyes.

“No, Mr. Alastor. I can’t... I can’t keep doing this." I said, taking a step back.

He slowly lowered his arms and placed them on his back. He looked at me, visibly uncomfortable.

“It's… quite unusual for you to reject my touch, my dear." he said.

I snorted through my nose and frowned. My thoughts were beginning to sort out again, once I looked back at him. I remembered that I was angry. Very angry and hurt. And allowing him to touch me again went against everything I had to say.

I looked at him with determination and swallowed hard. My heart was pounding, and my hands were clenched into strong fists.

“Mister Alastor, I have to speak to you now.” I said seriously, “I have known you for two years, and I thought it would be enough time to know what to expect from you. But I was wrong.”

He let me speak without interruption.

“And yes, I have been avoiding you, as you have well said. Because after all I have lived with you here, I was foolish enough to imagine that I could always be with you. I was really very happy here just living with you. And I know that you will soon marry another woman. But before I have to bury all this that I am feeling, I prefer to tell you to your face everything, even if nothing changes.”

I lowered my face for a moment.

“Although you probably have known this for a long time.”

I took a breath and looked him in the eye.

“I am in love with you, Mister Alastor." I said.

The power and security with which my words flowed from my mouth was liberating. Having told him what I felt to his face was something I had wanted to do for months. And at the same time, my chest felt tight as I wanted to know what his answer was. My hands were shaking.

“Please, I need you to be completely honest with me for once.” I said with difficulty.

Mister Alastor remained in tense silence for a few moments. It seemed like he had been holding his breath since my confession. Finally, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He turned towards the window and looked out of the house.

“You made a terrible decision, Charlotte.” he said without turning to see me.

I felt the last glimpse of hope I had burst, leaving only overwhelming despair. I felt like I had been torn inside. I held them back as long as I could, but my tears welled up on my cheeks. I felt my pride hurt, I felt humiliated and silly. I covered my eyes with my fists, and clenched my teeth, trying not to whimper.

There was no polite offer of a handkerchief this time.

I swallowed hard and looked at him. He still had his back to me. I took a deep breath and got over it as best I could.

“Mister Alastor, I can’t go on like this.” I said in a tearful but clear voice, “I will not be able to continue working for you and seeing you on a daily basis, raising a family with Miss Mimzy. I’m not that strong.”

He turned to look at me.

“I quit." I said firmly.

His smile was still there, unperturbed, although his eyes could not hide the surprise.

“I’m going to pack up. I'm leaving right now. Please excuse me, and thank you very much for being... so kind to me, and giving me the opportunity to stay alive.” I said with all the dignity I had left.

Fighting down my sobs, I hurried to my room. I took off my red dress and put on the first cotton dress I could find, along with stockings and boots. I quickly put some personal items, my notebook, and the money I had saved all that time in my bag. I left all the new dresses and shoes that Mister Alastor had given me. I had to pass a towel over my face to wipe away all the tears I had.

I went down the stairs to the living room, where I picked up the photo of my parents and put it away. I moved so fast that I bumped the small table where the daffodil vase was, and it fell. Innately, I turned to try to pick it up, but I heard Mister Alastor come down the stairs and immediately tensed. I quickly went to the closet to put on my coat.

He stopped when he saw me there.

“I’m leaving. I hope you do very well with your new family." I said as I buttoned my coat with trembling hands, “I guess I'll keep seeing you for as long as the Mardi Gras lasts, so...”

“Where do you plan to go?” he said seriously.

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter where I go, sir. I just don’t want to be in this place." I said defiantly.

I turned to the door.

“I hope you are very happy." I said.

“Wait, _apple pie_." he said.

I kept my hand on the handle. The mention of the unique nickname my father had given me made me freeze. Did he really dare mention my late father in such a situation?

“I am going to tell you something that concerns you and it is better that you know it since you are going to leave,” he said, standing solemnly without taking his eyes off me.

I turned to him.

“Is this a joke? Do you really think I want to keep listening to you?” I said indignantly, facing him.

“It is a story that does not belong to me, and you will be completely free to do whatever you want once it’s over.” he said calmly.

I wanted to deny him. My heart had been consistently damaged, but still, I would listen to what he was going to tell me, at least if it would make him leave me in peace.

“Well. Go ahead.” I said reluctantly “Let's get this over with.”

He made a gesture with his hand, inviting me to return to the living room. I walked, with a tense step, and heard him snap his fingers. A pleasant fire started from the fireplace. I sat down on the sofa and he sat down in his chair. He clasped both hands together and leaned forward.

“I’m going to tell you the story of a girl. A girl who should not walk among the living.” he said.

“A long time ago, there was a girl, the only child of a powerful marriage in her locality. They had the cotton market in full swing and enjoyed great wealth and appreciation from the townspeople. That girl grew up living happily in her own world of luxury and travel.

“During high society tea parties, she preferred to drink coffee, and was regarded as an oddball among the children of the heads of the city. She inherited a love for music from her father, and a love for the stage from her mother. Both were responsible for feeding her more artistic side and her dreams. And at the same time, they raised her so she could be a great heiress to the farm.

“All three were on top of the world. But a fatal accident changed everything. The little girl, just 8 years old, became ill with cholera on one of her business trips to India. The illness was so devastating that it ended her young life in a matter of hours. Her parents were destroyed by the news. The family's attorney immediately sent a letter to New Orleans to process the child’s grave along with her death plate.

“But, the father was not going to lose his only daughter. His family, in its great antiquity, had collected a large number of treasures from all over the world. One of them was a compilation of ancient writings rescued from the library of Alexandria, and was compared to the book of the Clavicles of King Solomon. His book was an ancient grimoire, which had been inherited for generations, and whose legitimate heir could use all its power.

“The book was a relic that he used to carry on every trip, since sometimes it was necessary to use a spell in some matters. He preferred not to use it, since it was more valuable for him to earn his name on his own merits. But on that occasion, he transgressed all that was holy in this world. He made a life pact. Together with his wife, they both used a forbidden spell from the book that drained half of their lifetime, to give more time and health to their deceased daughter.

“So, making use of their own life, they revived their daughter. Even knowing that they would die young and in half the time that was due to them, they were happy that they had her back with them. But with that happiness came the fear of imminent and premature death. Now they knew that they would not be able to see their daughter grow into an adult. They couldn’t guide her all the way until she could fend for herself.

“Both parents were surprised to see that the little girl, after having been revived, began to talk about having been in a place full of light. She dreamed that she had wings and flew in the sky, and she also said that she had been entrusted with the mission of writing secrets.

“She had heard a secret. The name of God had been whispered to her. She knew it and remembered it, but she couldn't say it unless necessary. Her parents convinced her that it had been nothing more than a vivid dream. And after a long time, the girl ended up believing them.

“But her uncle, who had received the letter from the family's attorney about Charlotte's death, had prepared everything for her funeral. When he saw Charlotte get off the boat, he couldn't believe it. She was alive, but he already had everything organized for her funeral, including the plaque on her grave. He asked the lawyer for an explanation, who assured him that the girl had been dead, but “miraculously” had recovered from the illness. The girl’s parents didn’t want to talk much about it either. But the girl’s uncle knew there was something strange about it all.

“The father and uncle had a serious discussion. The uncle rebuked him about how he saw it possible that he had used a taboo spell on his niece. That if she was dead, it was because it was her time, and they shouldn’t intervene, and that he thought that perhaps the girl was no longer human, nor did he know what consequences they would have from bringing a soul back to life. For him, his niece had died the same day he received the letter.

“The girl’s father was upset with his brother, and avoided talking about it again. But the uncle began to treat the girl with contempt. Furthermore, he told his wife what was happening. Both of them made life impossible for the little girl, and the moment came when they all took in the weight of the uncle’s words: the manifestation of the girl’s power. After the girl’s favorite doll was cruelly thrown into the fire, she screamed so loudly that the walls thundered. All the sculptures that the girl’s father had collected on his travels fell. Heads of lions, elephants, giraffes, rare creatures, such as the Tasmanian tiger. All were on the ground, destroyed.

“The father needed to find someone skilled to start repairing the destroyed figures. So, he asked his favorite seamstress, Rosie, if she could do something like that. But she was not an expert on the subject, so she recommended someone she knew. A young man who had been starting to popularize his taxidermy jobs, and who she had known as just a shoeshine boy. A young man who had learned to speak, behave, and dress like an adult, after working for so long outside the city bank.

“The father contacted the young man. He could not refuse. He needed the job and the pay was quite generous. The girl’s father was really delighted with the boy. He was cultured, skilled in speaking, and had appropriately praised his hat. So, gladly, he invited him to his house.

“At the time, while visiting the estate, the young man was really fascinated by the greatness of the place and the number of destroyed figures. And he wanted to find out more about who could have done something like that.

_“‘Excuse my boldness, sir." said the young man, ‘But I’m surprised at the level of destruction. Was it thieves who caused this?’_

_‘No, it was my daughter,’ said the father._

_‘She must possess extraordinary strength.’_

_‘She is only twelve.’_

“The young man tried to be prudent with his investigative work. There was clearly something wrong. Without wasting time, he assessed the damage and prioritized the highest value parts. It was several weeks of hard reconstruction work, where he had the opportunity to speak to the girl’s father, and they forged a pleasant friendship. Soon, the young man was in charge of preparing all the animals that the girl’s father wanted to add to his collection.

“They shared quite a few themes in common. Like music and reading. More than once, the young man was lent very rare editions of books. On one occasion, the girl’s father asked him about his family, and he told him that his mother had died in the Spanish flu pandemic.

“ _‘Knowing how imminent her death was, it would have been really helpful to know some method of reviving her.’_

_“‘Such spells are limiting and dangerous, my young friend. Anyway, I am leaving everything in order so that my little apple is fine when I leave.’_

_‘Sir, if I may say so, it would appear that you speak from experience.'_

_‘A father makes whatever sacrifices it takes to see his daughter alive. Even if it costs him his own life.’_

“It was then that the girl’s father told him about his experience of reviving his daughter. The girl’s father showed her the family grimoire. It was a very old book, but he had kept its material intact. It was fascinating and unique. The young man asked him to lend him some pages for his research, and asked if he could keep them for a while. The girl’s father accepted with the condition that the young man should be careful, and that he should report the progress of his study.

“The young man, after a few days, and fascinated by the power of those pages, went to inform him of the magnificent qualities of the book that were being wasted. Among those qualities was shadow control. But despite being very tempting, the minimum condition to get to use that power was human sacrifice.

_“‘As heir to the grimoire, I can easily access the power of those spells, but there are limits to the power that other mortals can use, my young friend. And killing people is not an option.’_

_“‘A real shame.’_

“It was then that a small person walked in on the conversation. She had long blonde hair and a red dress, which highlighted her charming black eyes and light skin. The young man and that girl looked at each other for the first time. Without words, without greetings or introductions, they stared in silence for a few seconds.

_“‘Apple pie, I'm busy here. I'll go with you as soon as I'm done with this job,’ said the girl’s father._

“The young lady just nodded and left the place.

_“‘Is that her?’ asked the young man._

_“‘That was my little apple pie,’ he confirmed._

_“‘She looks like a little angel.’_

_“‘Don’t you dare touch her.” he added sulkily._

_“‘I would never let that thought cross my mind.” said the young man, willingly._

_“‘Good. Returning to the matter at hand, you may borrow ‘De profundis.’ It is a unique edition, so if something happens to it…’_

_‘I will be extremely careful,’ the young man assured him._

_“‘Perfect. By the way, I wanted to invite you next weekend for dinner with family and friends. It will be here on the farm. Only my wife knows you, and it would be good if my partners knew about your work. The owner of the radio was delighted with you and your performance on the radio the other day.’_

_“‘Again, thank you very much for the recommendation.’_

_“‘You have a good voice. You were born to be an announcer. So, you can’t miss out on this invitation.’_

_“‘It would be an honor to attend, sir.’_

_“Magnificent. Tomorrow I will travel to a neighboring city to close a deal for a considerable purchase of cotton. We will stay until Tuesday, so I will go with my wife, but my girl will stay here.”_

_“‘I wish you an excellent journey, sir.’_

“But that dinner never came, because on that business trip, the car they were in derailed on a cliff in a fatal accident. The girl’s mother died in the crash, but the father lived long enough to settle some unfinished business with his lawyer and say goodbye to his daughter. Days later, his body succumbed to internal injuries and bleeding.

“In addition to the cotton farm, the girl’s inheritance was the grimoire. And she, unknowingly, was a threat to every living creature. Her soul, snatched from the heavenly kingdom, kept within her the name of God. If she were to remember and pronounce it, her demon-destroying ability would be overwhelming. And at the same time, she was heir to the grimoire, with which she could give orders to demons. She was a threat to those from beyond. A pure soul of an angel who had been brought down to earth without consent. And now she was alone.”

*******

The ticking of the clock and the sound of the flames was the only thing that interrupted the silence.

“I was the taxidermist for the Magne family." said Mister Alastor.

I was speechless. It was too much information. As if it wasn’t enough that my heart already was groggy, my head joined it. Mister Alastor had worked on projects with my father. He knew him. They had been friends. He’d always known about my personal story since we ran into that forest two years before.

“You… lied to me." I said, standing up.

“I don't think I did, darling.” he said calmly.

“And what about the fact that I was revived as a girl? That my parents died because of me, that you worked for my father and that ghosts want my soul for something I don’t even remember,” I said as tears ran down my cheeks.

“None of that seemed important to me to tell,” he said, “But given the circumstances, and your clear intentions to leave my protection, you must know at least that part of your own history to take care of yourself.”

He paused.

“Your uncle is looking for you, Charlotte. Because he cannot kill more people. His state of health must have worsened much faster than he could kill people, and these opportunities have become increasingly rare since he had to emigrate to France. He no longer had servants whom he could kill as he pleased. And he knows that as an heir to the grimoire, you can access powers beyond any mortal. That is why your father taught you Latin. So you could use it one day.”

I didn’t know how to react. I felt betrayed. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to know anything else.

I took my bag and walked quickly out of the room, saying nothing. I closed the door behind me and walked through the cold, dark night on that stony path. I walked fast, not caring about anything. At one point, I started running. I just ran. I ran away. I wanted to escape from everything. I wanted to forget everything I lived, everything I heard. I didn't want to feel.

I don't remember when I got on the tram or how I got there, but the door to Vaggie's apartment was before me. I knocked on the door several times. She took a long time to answer. But, finally, she cautiously opened the door. She was surprised to see me there. As she opened the door, I noticed she had pulled a knife out. She had probably been thinking of defending herself if there had been some thief who had knocked.

“Charlotte?” she said, worried “What are you doing here?”

“Vaggie...” I said, almost in a whisper.

Only then could I cry. I hugged her, feeling that my legs, my mind, and my heart had no strength. I cried until there was no air left in my lungs. Vaggie only managed to close the door and took me to sit in a battered chair. She didn’t say anything for a while and just let me cry, letting all the sorrow in my soul vent.

After long minutes of just tears and wails, Vaggie stood up and put the kettle on. I was a little calmer, but I was exhausted. I felt that I could sleep for many hours if I rested my head on a soft surface.

Then, Vaggie approached me with a cup of hot water and cookies.

“Do you want tea or...?” she said, doubtful.

“Coffee, please.” I said in a hoarse voice.

She brought me a can of instant coffee. As if I was an automaton, I put a few teaspoons in the cup and a little sugar. Only then was I able to see Vaggie's small apartment in more detail.

I wouldn’t have known where Vaggie lived if it wasn’t for just a couple of days ago when we had to come pick up a pair of shoes that Angel had insisted on wanting to wear in his rehearsal. It was just two blocks from Mimzy’s Palace. It consisted of a small kitchen-room, with a bedroom and a bathroom. It was modest, but she had good taste in decorating. In the room was a light mint scent from Vaggie's hand lotion. She had on the walls some poster pictures from movies like Chaplin’s “The Golden Chimera” and one from “Betty Boop and Bimbo.” She had a small bookshelf and a coffee table with damp marks on the wood, most likely from the teacups she drank while reading. She had a small radio and a record player by the window. But the most curious thing was a table with several species of moths, with their respective scientific names.

I looked up and spotted a wall clock. It was almost two in the morning.

“I am sorry to disturb you so late." I said.

“Charlotte, the time doesn’t matter,” she said, worried, “just tell me what happened.”

I lowered my head and stirred my coffee.

“I quit, Vaggie,” I said, “I couldn’t spend another moment closer to him.”

“I see,” she said with a pause.

I looked into my cup of coffee.

“He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” she said defensively.

“No. He would never do anything to me that I didn’t want.”

I took a breath and sighed.

“I just told him how I felt about him...”

She then seemed to understand.

“And that didn’t change things. He said it was a terrible decision.” I said.

“I see.” she said sympathetically.

I drank some coffee. I looked at Vaggie with shame.

“Vaggie, I know it’s sudden, but may I ask you to let me stay at your house for a few days? Only until I find another place to live. I will pay you for everything I use and...”

“Charlotte. Charlotte.” she said, touching my shoulder in a conciliatory way.

She smiled at me with empathy.

“Of course, you can stay as long as you need.” she said.

I gave her a half smile.

“Thanks, Vaggie.” I said.

“For now, you can sleep in my bed and I will sleep on the sofa.” she said, standing up.

“You don’t have to do that. I can sleep on this sofa without problems.” I said.

“Look, what you need most now is a comfortable place to lay your bones, at least for today,” she said, in an authoritative tone like that of a mother, “We will manage somehow later.”

My head was spinning. I decided it was best not to contradict her. She looked at my little bag and cocked her head.

“That's all you brought?”

“Everything he had given me, I left there. I didn’t come naked because it was cold.” I said, in a somber tone.

Vaggie seemed to want to dig deeper but said nothing. She offered me a big nightgown to sleep in and I settled into her bed.

“Are you sure...?” I started.

“Not another word, Charlotte.” she said, raising her hand, “Rest, and then we talk, okay?”

I was too exhausted to continue arguing.

“Thanks, Vaggie.” I repeated.

“Goodnight.” she said, turning off the light on the table.

She closed the door and left me alone in the dark with my thoughts. I sighed for a long time and took the weight of what I had done and what my plans for the future were now. I had quit my job. I would no longer prepare Mister Alastor’s breakfast, I would no longer wait for him with dinner ready, I would no longer feed Razzle and Dazzle like I had every morning. I had given up my life with him, and had also given up on him.

In the middle of the darkness, I began to sing almost in a whisper and slowly.

**Well, the next time I see you I’m really gonna show you**   
**I’m gonna act like I won't even know you**   
**‘Coz I hate myself for falling in love with you**

**You won’t let me be your one and only**   
**The only time you want me is when you’re lonely**   
**And I hate myself for falling in love with you**

**I get that old time feeling**   
**Every time we get together well I show it**   
**Like a tree that bends to the will of the winds**   
**You got me in your power and you know it**

**But the next time you call me even if it kills me**   
**I’m gonna act like it don’t even thrill me**   
**‘Coz I hate myself for falling in love with you**

**I get that old time feeling**   
**Every time we get together well, I show it**   
**Like a tree that bends to the will of the winds**   
**You got me in your power and you know it**

**But the next time you call me even if it kills me**   
**I’m gonna act like it don’t even thrill me**   
**‘Coz I hate myself for falling in love with you**

The last thing I remember going through my mind before falling asleep in a black abyss, was imagining Mister Alastor, sitting on his sofa.

Who knows how many hours he sat in his chair, in the dark.

****

When I woke up, I felt a magnificent aroma in the atmosphere. As I tried to get up, I immediately felt tremendous body pain and puffy eyes. Looking around, I remembered where I was and why I was there. I stood up and saw Vaggie in the kitchen making pancakes.

“Good morning, Charlotte. Are you okay? You slept a lot.” she said, distressed.

“Good morning.” I said in a hoarse voice, “How long did I sleep?”

“It's almost nine... it’s Saturday." Vaggie said seriously.

I froze.

“Did I sleep more than a day?” I said, surprised “Not again…”

“Does that happen to you often?”

I was quiet. The last time had been when Mister Alastor had presented himself to me as “The Vigilante.”

“Just once. And it was also because of a very strong experience.” I said quietly.

Vaggie just looked at me, seemingly upset, but didn't say anything about it.

“I’m so sorry.” I said.

“Hey, sometimes you need to rest a little more.”

She smiled at me, more animated.

“I made you breakfast. Take a seat.” she said kindly.

I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the small square table, with a black and white checkered tablecloth. She served me coffee and some pancakes. She brought peach jam to accompany.

“Thanks for preparing this.” I said, trying to smile.

“It’s no problem. You’re probably hungry from so many hours of unconsciousness.” she said with a smile.

I tried the pancakes with some of the jam. They were immensely delicious.

“What are you going to do now, sweetie?” Vaggie told me.

“I’ll look for a place to stay and…” I tried to say.

“Charlotte, we already talked about that.” she said, frowning “I have no problem with you staying here. I live alone and your company would be very nice. So, don’t worry.”

“Really?” I said, moved.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, we can share common expenses as soon as you have a steady job." she said, drinking from her tea.

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” I said happily “I can cover my expenses for a few days with my savings. And with what I will earn singing in the Mimzy’s palace I will…”

I stopped and lowered my head.

“Charlotte?” Vaggie said worried.

“I'm going to have to keep seeing him,” I said sadly, “Today is Saturday, and he will be at today's rehearsal... It will be difficult for me to concentrate.”

“Charlotte... do you really want to keep singing in the show?” Vaggie said, puzzled.

I looked at my cup of coffee for a few moments before speaking.

“I know this is crazy, considering that he is an investor there and I will have to keep listening to Miss Mimzy chatter about her life with him. But I won’t stop singing.”

“Charlotte, you are very talented and the public loves what you do. But I don’t think it’s good for you to keep working there." she said worriedly “You are very good at sewing. Maybe you can work for a tailor.”

I looked at Vaggie, determined.

“Vaggie, I’m not going to stop singing.” I said, “I have this opportunity and I’m going to take it.”

“Really, Charlotte, don’t feel obligated." she said, almost pleading.

“Don’t worry, I know I can do a great show if I want to.” I said, smiling as best I could.

There was a moment of silence.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” she said, unsure.

I took a breath and sighed.

“My heart hurts like you have no idea, I won’t lie to you. And knowing that I'll see him at rehearsal today, or hanging around with Miss Mimzy, makes me want to drop to the ground and never get up.”

I put my cup on the table.

“But, I had a hard time getting the opportunity to sing on stage and I’m not going to falter now.” I said decidedly.

She sighed, exasperated.

“I hope you know what you are doing, sweetheart.” she said with a half-smile.

We finished breakfast and I helped wash the dishes. After a quick house cleaning, I went to bathe. Vaggie lent me one of her dresses, although it was a little tight on my chest.

Finally, we went together to Mimzy’s Palace, where they were all in rehearsal. The musicians were tuning their instruments. The support dancers were chatting in a corner and Angel was stretching, wearing a pink leotard and huge red stilettos. Niffty was going here and there cleaning tables at an impressive speed, and Fat Nuggets fluttered around the room. The only one who didn’t seem to be anywhere was Miss Mimzy.

“Good morning.” said Vaggie.

“It was about time, doll.” Angel said haughtily, “And you arrived with the other doll? Now isn’t that strange?”

“Good morning, Angel.” I said.

He glanced at me in interest. He looked like he was going to tell me something, but Vaggie interrupted.

“All right, it’s time to start today’s show. Girls, remember, we won’t have the bottle show today. That was left for Tuesday, because the props are not ready yet. And the feathers of the second act will have to be red and not white. Someone confused the request,” she started listing.

Vaggie really was a fantastic coordinator. No one contested her instructions, and even Angel obeyed her, albeit reluctantly. The rehearsal of the cast girls was rather slow. They intended to make a human pyramid, but the difference in their heights gave them trouble, and they had to rearrange themselves. Vaggie seemed about to burst at every girl’s mistake.

While I was looking in my notebook for a song to practice, I heard someone call me from the hallway. I looked around and followed the call. It was Angel Dust, who was standing in the corridor.

“Is something wrong, Angel?” I said curiously.

“Baby doll, your eyes are so swollen from crying that it’s hard to ignore. And it was pretty weird to see you arrive with Vaggie,” he said, lighting a cigarette on his long mouthpiece “Spit it out. What happened?”

I was amazed at his power of observation. I figured it was okay to tell him. After all, sooner or later everyone would find out.

“I quit, Angel.” I said, head down.

He opened his eyes wide.

“You quit being the servant of ‘Mr. Smiles?’” he said, surprised “I always believed that you and he were more than...”

“No, Angel.” I said bluntly "There was nothing.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Suddenly, he laughed cheekily. I looked at him, annoyed.

“Girl, you can’t deny what was obvious to everyone.” he said insidiously “You two couldn’t take your eyes off each other. Clearly there was more to it than just work.”

“You imagine things.”

“My beautiful eyes could only see how much you idolized him, doll. And, I can guess that those tears are of rejection. Or am I wrong?”

He took a long puff from his cigarette and smirked.

“I knew it.” he said simply.

I hugged myself and looked down. He sighed in annoyance and held out a sheet of paper.

“What is this?” I said, confused.

“It is my song.” he said, taking another taste of his cigarette.

“Did you write it?” I said, amazed.

“Look, I didn’t do this for you, okay? It’s just pretty awkward to see you all down in the dumps there. It distracts me from my work.” he said defensively.

“You want me to sing it, because... “ I said doubtfully.

“I guess the lyrics are quite adequate for how you feel,” he said, lifting his shoulders, not looking at me, “And I owe it to you for saving Fat Nuggets the other day from being eaten.”

I couldn't help but smile, touched. Angel was a good person. A little eccentric, a little egotistical, but very friendly at heart. The fact that he showed me his song was something that seemed to be very important to him. So, I read it. My forehead frowned as I read the lyrics to the song.

“You wrote this?” I said, once I finished reading.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” he said, one hand on his waist and smiling proudly.

“It’s a little aggressive...”

“Girl, you have to be aggressive on stage. Otherwise no one will take us seriously. So, go ahead. Gather any vengeful emotion you have in that cute heart and exploit it with this song.” he said, proudly.

“Who’s Tino?” I said curiously.

He froze in place and huffed in frustration.

“I knew I should erase that name.” he mumbled.

“Was it a… lover that you had?” I said, smirking.

“Do you want the song or not? No questions." he said, raising his palm in front of my face.

“Alright, fine.” I said, pouting “At least tell me what the melody is like.”

Rehearsing Angel’s song entertained me throughout the rehearsal. The lyrics of the song were so catchy, I was amazed at how quickly I mastered it. Angel taught me how to move on stage with the gestures and steps that I had to do at every moment. He was a strict choreographer, but his rigor paid off when I learned all the dance and the lyrics around two in the afternoon. Vaggie and the other girls had gone to lunch before us.

“Ok, little doll, you’re ready,” he said, hopping off the stage “Do it alone now.”

“Are you sure?” I said fearfully.

“You got it, don't make me wait.” he said.

He looked at the musicians and said sensually.

“Guys, can you help me with some music? At my signal!”

The musicians settled in and I tensed up. I inhaled and exhaled deeply. I went over the lyrics one last time before setting the paper down.

“Okay, here we go.” said Angel.

The piano music started playing and I started singing.

**Long long time ago**   
**I had my own little show**   
**Was a beautiful, a lovable angel**   
**But he took the spotlight, shining so bright**   
**Left me to fade away**   
**But honey, now the turn is mine**

**A devil made from heaven, sent from above**   
**Looks like Tino’s got a little date, let's have some fun**   
**We’ve got lots to do little errand boy**   
**Come to me at cloud nine**   
**To be the perfect angel, some sin must be done**

I moved, gesturing to represent a sad and helpless girl.

**You told me what to do and what to say, I couldn’t escape**   
**You got to choose the ending of my fate. You put me astray**

I stood firm with my feet apart and raised my arms.

**But not anymore!**   
**I’m in control!**   
**I have the stage**   
**You can't turn the page**   
**Now all eyes on me!**

**So many experiments so many mistakes**   
**But I’ll go all the way till I’m in the perfect shape**   
**First is worst maybe the third’s the charm!**   
**So close! Oh! I cannot wait**   
**The demon won’t taint me now, cause you’re the sacrifice he’ll slay**

**You said I wasn’t good enough to stay, you put me away**   
**You took away my future and my fame, but now that will change**

I toyed with the steps Angel taught me and added some of my own authorship.

**Focus on me!**   
**I’ll be all that they see!**   
**I’ll make them sway**   
**No, can’t run away**   
**Now all eyes on me!**   
**You don’t know what it’s like to drown away, in a puddle of shame**   
**And You...**   
**Yes you...**   
**Made me insane!**

I took a deep breath and smiled.

**But not anymore!**   
**I’m in control!**   
**I have the stage**   
**You can’t turn the page**   
**So do as you're told!**

**Encore! Hit the beat boys**

**Focus on me!**   
**I’ll be all that they see!**   
**I’ll make them sway**   
**No, can’t run away**   
**Now all eyes on me!**   
**Now all eyes on, All eyes on me!**

When I finished singing, I felt euphoric. I needed to catch my breath, but I felt that everything in my chest had been channeled into my singing. All my anger and sadness from days of loneliness and frustration in one hymn. I felt powerful. I loved being in control of the stage. Only then could I see Angel standing, with a triumphant smile.

“And now you’ll have that man eating from your hand, doll.” he said with pride.

It took me by surprise. It was not a comment on my performance.

“What are you talking about?"

“He was looking at you.” he said, pointing to the door.

My heart skipped a beat. I immediately looked at the door, but no one was standing there.

“Mister Alastor was here?” I said, terrified “And he heard me?”

“Every word. And he felt the energy you transmitted. It was delicious, girl.”

I touched my face in horror.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaimed.

“What? Didn't you want him to listen to you? Also, it was a great song, if I may say so.” he said nonchalantly.

I stepped off the stage in silence and sighed.

“I don't want to have contact with him…” I murmured

Angel laughed loudly.

“You know it’s a lie, don’t you?” said.

I looked at him, surprised.

“You have so much tension when you are together that it is difficult to ignore. The first time I saw you two, I thought you were married or something. And believe me, I’m sure you guys were very active at home... or am I wrong?” he said mischievously

“Mmm…” I mused, blushing.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed triumphantly with a raised fist.

“Angel…” I said, annoyed.

“Well, listen, if you do nothing but stay here feeling sorry for yourself, the idiot is never going to respect you.”

“He rejected my feelings, Angel.” I said, hurt.

He sighed heavily.

“Did he tell you directly that he doesn’t love you?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

I paralyzed in my place. Had he said it?

“He said it was a bad decision to love him.” I said slowly.

“He didn’t reject you like Tino did, honey.” he said thoughtfully.

He snorted through the nose.

“Someone telling you they don’t love you is pretty screwed. Especially when you gave him the best years of your life, and he left you lying in the city, to your luck, only to go to another country without warning you,” he said, crestfallen.

There was a moment of silence. I wondered if this “Tino” would ever know all the damage Angel seemed to be feeling from his rejection.

“I’m so sorry.” I said quietly.

Angel looked at me quizzically and snorted.

“Listen girl. You can stay here and watch as someone else occupies your rightful place, or you confront him and show him who you are. Unless you just aspire to become his mistress.”

“Angel, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to be anyone’s mistress.” I said, upset.

“Hahahahaha. Ridiculous as ever,” he said, fixing his pompadour “I don't get into gossip, but if you ever think of being the lover of ‘Mr. Smiles,’ you could very well make him stay with you. He doesn’t look at Miss Mimzy the way he looks at you. And believe me when I tell you that if his plans are with her, there is nothing remotely close to love there.”

“He wouldn’t leave his plans for me.”

“Do those plans include continuing to feel miserable and doing nothing? Really? I thought you were smarter than that.” he said skeptically.

I looked down and sighed.

“No,” I said, “That is not my plan.”

Then he started clapping.

“Bravo, doll,” he said, winking at me. “Come on, let’s go find the best song for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu
> 
> SONG LIST!  
> Sally's Song & Corpse Bride Medley https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lz1i3P6YlI  
> I Hate Myself For Falling https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDVWPvycA0U  
> All Eyes On me ~ By Or30 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qx4wmsPOAI  
> OFFICIAL POSTER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz
> 
> Translated by: Neredia1 https://twitter.com/Neredia1 and MerlinIsland https://twitter.com/MerlinIsland
> 
> Follow me on Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


	15. Coagula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coagulate.

"Alastor?" I heard someone say next to me.

I massaged my eyes in frustration and adjusted my glasses. I gave my best smile and closed the dresser door.

Pentious had risen early. He had spent the last few minutes hanging around the radio station, talking about his restaurant's successful new dessert. He openly boasted that it was seasoned with his family's special secret ingredient, which, I suspected, were eggs, like almost everything he considered special on his menu.

My shadow had warned me of his presence before entering the station, so I had quickly hid. I was in no mood to socialize, so I had been waiting for him to leave the compound soon. Unfortunately, after being hidden in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, (a time that exceeded what was considered normal) I had to leave.

“Good morning, Pentious.” I said, keeping my composure.

He disrespectfully approached me and examined me closely, carefully.

“My goodness! You look terrible, man.” he said, dismayed, “Did you sleep badly last night?”

I adjusted my bowtie.

“Sleeping is a luxury given to those who have few thoughts to attend to.” I said nonchalantly.

“Concerns, Alastor?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

He hugged me by the shoulders and pulled me closer to him.

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing a little of your precious girl's attention and love can't attend to,” he said with a strange fatherly air.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I removed his hand from my shoulder and walked away at a safe distance.

“Charlotte no longer lives with me, Pentious.” I said, “She gave up being my servant last night. Also, I inform you that I have already committed to Mimzy for marriage.”

The impact of my words was devastating to him, and I could swear he held his breath for a moment, not quite understanding what I had said.

"WHAT?!" he exclaimed, beside himself "WHAT?! ARE YOU AND THAT CUTE GIRL FINISHED?!"

I raised my index finger to say something, but he kept yelling.

"AND YOU, MARRYING MIMZY?! MY DEADLY ENEMY?! ” he exclaimed, clutching his hair desperately.

He glared at me and took me firmly by the shoulders.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he said, facing me furiously.

I pulled away from him, taking his hands off me.

"They are personal matters, dear Pentious." I said, dusting off my suit.

"Personal?" he said indignantly "Alastor, I was watching the whooole time while you and that girl ate at my restaurant. And what you had was special!”

My eye twitched in disgust. I peeked over at my shadow. It seemed that not even he had noticed that we had been watched by that idiot during dinner that day.

"I cannot believe this! And how long have you known her?! ” he demanded to know.

"I met her two years ago." I said simply.

"TWO YEARS!" he exclaimed in horror. “At that same time, my brother had met his wife, and they had married in two months and were expecting their fifth child! What were you wasting your time on?! ”

"Five children in two years?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"He had twins and then triplets." he clarified.

Pentious prattled on, furiously. I entered my speech booth to keep curious ears from listening further. Pentious followed me.

“Alastor, I was so sure that you had proposed to her at the wonderful table prepared for you (that I personally arranged for the occasion), that I sent to make you a special cake in the kitchen to celebrate. But one of my subordinates threw two piles of dishes on the floor and the cake was incomplete. And you both were already gone when I came back!”

I stifled an annoyed sigh and settled into my announcer's chair.

"Pentious, it was a pleasure to see you again, but it is time for my program." I said.

"Fine then, Alastor! Go do your things! And leave me heartbroken here, as if you cared!” he exclaimed dramatically, with tears in his eyes.

He turned indignantly and left the voice booth, slamming the door.

I blinked, surprised at his outburst. He was a strange character, for sure.

I went back to my work. I put on my headphones and the "On Air" sign lit up.

"Good morning everyone, my dear listeners!" I said willingly, “It's finally Friday! What a formidable day! We have a temperature of 53.6 ° Farenheit in the environment with a little chance of rain. And we cannot start the weekend without some news from the world. Isn't that right?"

The announcements and the festive air of the Mardi Gras that was due to start in a couple of days was palpable, and most of the news and announcements talked solely about that. From special costume offerings for the parade, to the announcement of Louisiana Governor Oscar Kelly Allen's visit to the festivities, and lively songs followed, undoubtedly appreciated by the people.

I stayed focused on my work all day. Away from any unwanted ideas that might come to my head. I concentrated on what I had to say and hummed each note of each song presented, to silence my thoughts.

At lunchtime, I went to a nearby coffee shop to buy my lunch and two cups of coffee. Lack of sleep was not usually a factor in looking so down, as Pentious had mentioned. I preferred to avoid any other comments about it, which is why I asked for an extra cup.

At the end of my shift, and with a lot of caffeine in my body, I presented the last song of the day.

“And now a public favorite to say goodbye to this magnificent section! This is: 'You're my everything!” I said cheerfully.

I gave the signal and the song started playing.

I listened to the melody carefully. As much as I avoided it, there were times when my head wandered to her, remembering her with the tune. Any thought related to a certain young woman came back to my mind over and over again, without permission and in a sweeping way.

I couldn't get her look of complete rejection out of my head, or how her refusal to my advances the night before had shaken me to the core. She had distanced herself, spoke clearly to me, and confronted me. It was really interesting to see her standing firm. Even seeing her like that had tempted me to want to touch her again.

But then she said it. She had told me what, long ago, I had deduced.

She loved me.

I sensed it, and her actions spoke for her every day. In the looks, in the way she added lavender to the hot water in my tub, in how she arranged the daffodils for my mother, how we sang in duet and how she blushed when smiling at me. That she had said it to my face, that was completely different. There was no way to try to divert the subject for comfort. It was a statement that demanded an answer. Her eyes full of determination and her words so sure, had taken my breath away.

But she had asked me for sincerity and that was what I had given her.

So she quit.

She excused herself and packed her things to leave. She was ready in just a few minutes. I took a quick look at her room when I heard her walk, quickly, down the stairs. She hadn't taken anything except a few personal things that she kept on her nightstand. She had left all the dresses, shoes, and others things that I had given her throughout these months. She had even left the red dress she had brought lying on the floor.

I went down the stairs and she was putting on her coat, ready to go.

"I hope you are very happy." she had told me.

She was really going to leave. As she was turning the handle, I said the first and only thing that came to mind.

"Wait, _Apple Pie_." I said.

**You're my everything underneath the sun**

**You're my everything rolled up into one**

**You're my only dream, my only real reality**

**You're my idea of a perfect personality**

**You're my everything, everything I need**

**You're the song I sing and the book I read**

**You're a way beyond belief and just to make it brief**

**You're my winter, summer, spring, my everything**

**You're my everything (everything I need)**

**You're the song I sing and the book I read**

**You're a way beyond belief and just to make it brief**

**You're my winter, summer, spring, my everything**

Her gaze of betrayal returned, incessantly, to present itself in my head. That look that she had given me after the revelation of her own story, and how she had been resurrected. How I had worked with her father and cultivated a friendship with him.

From the most selfish part of my being, I wanted to retain her at the cost of the pain and fear she was feeling. It seemed inconceivable to me that she wanted to leave like that. Without a proper farewell. Without more than hasty words from the one who was running away. I wanted her to hurt for leaving. I wanted her to suffer detachment, as revenge for denying me her company. Yet, at the same time, I wanted to see her well.

Knowing her was far from having been one of my ends, but I wasn't happy that she walked away.

I didn't know what I wanted from her.

I didn't know what to do with her.

Her face only confirmed that I had not enjoyed hurting her heart, as much as I wanted to.

It was, then, that she, without further words, just left. I immediately sent my shadow to follow her. She did not look back at any point in her frantic rush to the tram station. My shadow accompanied her to an apartment, where Vaggie appeared shortly after.

And I heard her cry. Her crying tightened my chest. It was a cry from a broken heart. Why was that crying not making me happy?

My shadow guarded her until she was settled on Vaggie's bed. And I heard her sing, in broken whispers. It was then that, in the solitude of my living room, I put a hand over my mouth and sighed. Sheltered by darkness, no one could see that my smile had been defeated that night.

I could not sleep. I stayed in that same position for the remaining hours of the night. As soon as I was aware that the alarm clock was ringing upstairs, I knew it was time to work and I still hadn't solved anything in my head.

One of my coworkers was signaling to me through the glass. The song was over and we were on air.

"We regret the technical difficulties!" I said, hiding my rambling thoughts, "I bet you all missed my voice in these seconds of silence! HAHAHA!"

After finishing my day, I went directly home. I was feeling strangely uninspired. Which was unusual, considering that my lack of rest should have been generously rewarded by the coffee I had drunk. It was an uncomfortable journey, both on the tram and on the forest walk.

Upon entering my house, everything was silent and dark. There was no music, nor the smell of fresh food in the room. There was no one to welcome me. I hung my jacket on the rack and headed to the kitchen and stopped at the entrance. Everything was as it had been left that morning. The crockery was clean and stacked. The empty pots of the last meal she had prepared for me.

She was not there. I didn't know what I was waiting for, really.

I took the food from the cupboard and headed to the stable. I called Razzle and Dazzle, to feed them. They came to me with a slow and sad step. Almost as if they knew she was gone. I fed the chickens and went home again. I turned on the radio in the living room to calm the silence and tuned in to a random station. I went to the kitchen and got ready to make my dinner.

As I cut the vegetables and the water in the pot boiled, the music kept me company.

**Don't know why**

**There's no sun up in the sky**

**Stormy Weather**

**Since my gal and I ain't together**

**Keeps raining all the time**

**Life is bare**

**Gloom and misery everywhere**

**Stormy Weather**

**Just can't get my poor old self together**

**I'm weary all the time**

**Every time**

I had not remembered that living alone at home was so unbearable. I would have gone to change that annoying song, if it weren't for my busy hands chopping the onion.

**So weary all of the time**

**When she went away**

**The blues walked in and then they met me**

I was stirring the pot. I turned around and held out my hand.

"Charlotte, would you be so kind as to pass me the...?" I said out of habit.

Then, I broke off. Charlotte was no longer there.

**If she stays away**

**That old rocking chair's bound to get me**

**All I do is pray**

**The lord above will let me**

**Just walk in that sun again**

It was true. She had gone. Her presence, her music, and her light were no longer in my house. I lowered my hand slowly. I leaned against the edge of the counter and lowered my head.

Finally, I let out a long, heavy sigh.

**Can't go on**

**Everything I had is gone**

**Stormy Weather**

**Since my gal and I ain't together**

**Keeps raining all the time**

**Keeps raining all the time**

Things were fine. This is how they should be. I shouldn't worry about where I was, if, in the end, my purpose had been accomplished. That she was gone no longer meant that my problems would end. There was no one with whom I should feel weak, vulnerable, or suppress my impulses, or maintain my composure. There was no one to share my afternoons with, or talk about in common, or sing and dance with to the music. There was nobody who kissed me tenderly after having a fervent intimacy, who waited for me every day with good food, or who smiled at me sincerely.

Charlotte no longer lived with me. And so I had decided.

That she quit, and not having to see her, was the best thing for me. It was the most convenient for my peace of mind. I would continue according to the plan that had been established and laid out for me, since before she had appeared in my life. I would marry Mimzy, as I had been putting it off. Mimzy was a manageable person if her whims were catered for, so there would be no problem in being able to manipulate her to my wishes. The profits would be higher and I would be positioned in a privileged place.

Everything was going according to what I had planned.

So why was I not satisfied?

Overcoming those thoughts, I finished making my dinner and poured myself a serving. It was a lonely meal, interrupted only by the ticking of the hall clock.

I went to bed early, although the next day I didn't have to go to work. As I passed Charlotte's room, I saw the red dress lying on the bed and the bed made. I looked at the cabinets, and all her new clothes, including dresses and shoes that she hadn't worn yet, were still there. And, folded up and inside a cardboard box, was my jacket stained with deer blood. She had kept it as a jealous treasure.

I went back to my room and lay down on my bed. I immediately sat down and took the pillow. I sniffed her. It was the scent of Charlotte's hair. How much longer would her perfume be in my bed before it faded over time?

After a few moments of reflection, I looked at my shadow.

"Go find her. I want to see," I ordered.

My shadow slipped out the window and disappeared. Then I concentrated. Looking through the eyes of my shadow, I saw trees and then buildings, passing at full speed. He kept turning the right corners, until he came to a special department. Vaggie's house. My shadow slipped through the front door until it reached the living room. It seemed that no one was there. The lights were out, and it was about the time Vaggie was supposed to be working at Mimzy's Palace. My shadow peeked out from under the door to Vaggie's room.

And there was Charlotte. Sleeping peacefully. In exactly the same position from the night before. I wondered if she had woken up since falling asleep that night. It would not be the first time that she had slept for more than a day, after going through a strong experience for her soul. I watched her calm face, her chest rising and falling with her tranquil breathing.

I cut the vision and called my shadow. I stared at the ceiling for a long time.

She was fine, at least.

The next day, I went to Mimzy's Palace, early. Mimzy had insisted that we go to breakfast together. So, as soon as she opened her store, she indicated to Niffty that she would return in the afternoon, and with ease, took me by the arm enthusiastically.

We went to a nearby place, quite picturesque. She said she used to have breakfast there every morning. She ordered a serving of waffles with tea. She told me to order what I wanted, but I only asked for a cup of black coffee. I did not feel hungry.

"How's your coffee, Al?" she said unsurely. “I can ask them to prepare some waffles for you too. It is delicious!"

"No thanks," I said, shaking my hand. "By the way, I need to inform you that Charlotte no longer works as my maid."

Mimzy looked at me, shocked, and threw down her fork. Then, she recovered and her eyes sparkled.

"Oh, but what terrible news." she said with a huge smile.

"I guess she found a better job opportunity." I said, and drank from my coffee.

She tried to inquire into details of her departure, but I said only what was necessary. Her spirits seemed to improve further, and then she turned to her recent favorite topic: our marriage. She talked nonstop about preparations, types of cake, and the guests. She seemed to have everything under control, although I never told her on what date it was ideal to get married. She took out a box of cigarettes, offered me one, and I declined. She lit a cigarette and casually released the smoke into the air.

"We should get married in May! Or, better yet, in April! ” she said excitedly, "Spring will be in full swing!"

Fortunately, she settled for monosyllables and little comments from me between breaks from her spiel. I hardly heard her, really.

After breakfast, she insisted that we go to the best dressmaker in town to order the suits in time. Without saying her name, I knew who she was referring to.

"I am sure that if we leave the dress (according to my instructions) in her hands, it will be something wonderful," she said as we walked down the street.

I adjusted my glasses, uncomfortably.

"My dear, don't you think you're getting a little ahead of the preparations?" I said subtly.

"Oh Al-dear, don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure everything is perfect.” she said, dismissing my comment.

I suppressed an annoyed sigh. What I needed least at that moment was having to receive Rosie's disapproving glances. But I had to be cooperative.

I was relieved that, at least, Mimzy changed the subject to things that bothered her.

“That wretched pig ate the flowers at the entrance! Can you believe it?" she said indignantly.

"You can't ask too much of a slaughter animal." I said, lifting my shoulders.

"And you know what? Katie reappeared! I can't believe she keeps trying to break into my premises from time to time.” Mimzy exclaimed, annoyed.

"One must have some frivolous reason to try to perpetrate a place where they are not welcome." I said, without much interest.

"When I confronted her the other night, she told me she was on a mission. But surely she only wants to infiltrate to get gossip from the diners who are served by my girls,” she said smugly.

We got to Rosie's place. At first she seemed quite confused to see me arrive next to Mimzy. And she could not hide her amazement when Mimzy, giving me a tight hug around the waist, informed her, with joy, about our upcoming nuptials. Rosie had the skill to hide her surprise and congratulate her. Once Mimzy sank into the dress hangers, Rosie gave me a look of confusion and reproach, which I ignored.

Rosie attended Mimzy with all the courtesy and honor of a client, but in the little moments when Mimzy turned or tried on dresses, Rosie gave me cold disapproving looks. I stayed focused on the newspaper of the day, which was available in the small waiting area of the store. I avoided at all costs looking up, unless absolutely necessary.

"Miss Mimzy, I could design a custom lace for your original 'Rosie' dress." Rosie said suddenly.

"Really?" Mimzy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Of course. It wouldn't be a problem. I only ask that, once you have selected one of my dresses, you do not come from one moment to another with another type of design, and insist on keeping the new one, although the previous one obviously fit much better and nobody understands the sudden change . That is in very bad taste,” she said, in a hard voice.

Rosie was smiling and I caught the hint. Mimzy didn't even seem to be paying attention to her, while looking in the mirror.

It was lunch time and we were still in the room. Mimzy didn't seem to be satisfied with any model, and Rosie, almost unable to cover up her tiredness and annoyance before such a difficult client, reported that it was lunchtime and she had to close the store. Mimzy left disappointed, but promised to return as soon as possible.

"Thanks, come back soon." Rosie said with a tight smile as she opened the door for us.

I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Rosie as I was leaving. She looked at me with a frown and annoyance in her eyes. I bowed my head in farewell and followed Mimzy out.

We went to Mimzy's Palace to go and withdraw money from the box to go to lunch. Frankly, I didn't have much of an appetite, but I accompanied her out of courtesy. She passed me in the hall to get to her office and I stayed behind. I took off my glasses and massaged my eyes. It had been the most fruitless morning I had had in a long time. I was tempted to tell Mimzy that I was feeling unwell and retreat home.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. It was a song that beckoned to be heard. I reached the entrance to the main room and there she was. It was Charlotte. She sang with power and firmness, accompanied by a band of musicians. Angel Dust was watching her, like a judge, as he set the pace with his foot.

Charlotte put all her passion into the lyrics while singing it. Her upright posture and smug smile were compelling. The sweat on her forehead, her concentration, and the precision of her graceful movements were glorious.

**But not anymore!**

**I'm in control!**

**I have the stage**

**You can't turn the page**

**So do as you're told!**

**Encore! Hit the beat boys**

**Focus on me!**

**I'll be all that they see!**

**I'll make them sway**

**No, can't run away**

**Now all eyes on me!**

**Now all eyes on, All eyes on me!**

When the song ended, I was able to finally take my eyes off her. I hadn't even noticed when my jaw dropped from the impression she had left. Only then did I notice that Angel was watching me with an arrogant smile. I felt invaded and immediately returned to the hall.

I walked without a real fixed course, still very dazed by the way the desire to get closer to Charlotte shook me inside. That woman was going to finish me off, and I hadn't even interacted with her. I just had to see her on stage to remind myself how powerful her presence was.

She was still the same, but somehow she no longer felt the same. The rage and firmness in the song she performed made her look like what she truly was: unreachable.

Interesting. All of it was bewildering and appealing in equal parts. Most importantly, she was still here, and I would see to it that this continued.

I winced slightly as I felt a hand on my elbow. It was Mimzy.

"Al? I've been talking to you. Are you alright?" she said worriedly.

I cleared my throat.

"Of course, Mimzy, I was just reflecting on the wonderful shows that will kick off on Monday night for the Mardi Gras season." I said, assuring her.

"Oh, they will be fabulous. Today and tomorrow there will be dress rehearsals, so you have to come to see how magnificent they are.” she said proudly.

"Undoubtedly, my dear, I also look forward to seeing Charlotte on her debut." I said simply.

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me.

"Do you still expect Charlotte to participate?" she said defensively.

"Mimzy, my dear, it was a deal. Also, the public liked it. And at the end of the party season, she will have to find a job elsewhere,” I said, with a wave of my hand.

She didn't seem convinced, but she didn't limit anything else. I excused myself from lunch and told Mimzy that I had unfinished business that I needed to attend to. Despite Mimzy's constant complaints, I went home, promising to come back later. I had things to do.

That night, I arrived again at Mimzy's Palace with my best suit and a large paper bag. The people and the revelry of the night in the city were already present. The crowds of settled people assured me that, despite the economic downturn, cheap fun was a magnet for money.

I approached the tavern and Husk growled at me when he saw me arrive.

"Look who it is, if it isn't Mimzy's future husband, in person," he said sarcastically.

"Nice to see you, Husk," I said, widening my smile.

“I don't understand shit like you. Just a few days ago you were all 'sweetheart' with your little maid and now you are marrying my boss," he said, cleaning a glass.

"Charlotte gave up being my maid," I said, looking quizzically at him.

"And it's a good thing she did!" he exclaimed, putting the glass down hard on the counter, "It took her a long time to realize that the best thing is to stay away from you."

I laughed out loud.

"You are hilarious, my friend." I said, putting a ticket on the table, "Give me a whiskey."

Reluctantly, he began preparing my order.

Suddenly, Vaggie appeared, urgent.

"Husk, I need ice, now!" She ordered.

"You don't have to use that tone on me!" Husk chided her.

"Just do it!" Vaggie exclaimed, upset.

Husk handed her a mug of beer with ice cubes inside. As soon as Vaggie took it, she noticed my presence. She immediately frowned.

"Cheers." I said, jokingly.

She stared at me in suspicion for a moment, then ran out the way she came, ice in her hands.

Out of curiosity, I sent my shadow to investigate. A few moments later, it returned uneasily. I looked at it and it slid across the floor between the feet of the people, on the move to show me the way. Apparently, something interesting was happening.

"Husk, save this for me." I said handing him the paper bag.

"What?" he said, confused.

I stood up and followed my shadow. I quickly made it to the men's room. I stayed outside and sent my shadow under the door. I could see Angel Dust sitting on the floor and, oddly, Charlotte and Vaggie there as well. Charlotte looked very concerned as she helped Angel with bleeding facial wounds.

"Those men were cowards, Angel." Charlotte said.

"Two against one, that is not honorable." Vaggie said, as she pulled things out of a medicine cabinet.

"It's not like it's the first time I've been beaten for who I am," Angel said, in pain.

Charlotte carefully placed ice wrapped in a rag over the wounds on Angel's cheek.

“But they have become more frequent. Last time they almost stabbed you," Vaggie said.

"What can I say? People have become more puritanical and they no longer accept people like me, unlike years ago.” Angel said, annoyed.

"It seems terrible to me, Angel." Charlotte said, appalled.

"My only regret is that my face is all swollen for days. Now I won't be able to go out and do my acts.” Angel said, standing up and looking in the mirror.

It was my moment. I went into the bathroom and they stared at me in surprise.

"Oh! Good evening, I didn't know there was a party in the men's room.” I said, with my best smile.

Charlotte looked away nervously and Vaggie looked at me, clearly wanting to hit me.

"What are you doing here?" Vaggie said.

"Oh? Is the bathroom not for public use?” I said, showing a jagged smile.

"Were you following me?" she said defensively.

"The problems you may have don't matter to me." I said, shrugging.

I looked at Charlotte, who stared back at me in annoyance.

"Good evening, Charlotte." I said.

"Good evening." she said dryly.

I chuckled.

“Charlotte, my dear, I have something to give you. But I think we will have to wait until everyone goes home. I have to go eat with Mimzy now, so let's meet at Husk's bar at two in the morning,” I said, freely.

Charlotte looked at me in surprise and outrage.

"Why should she go?" Vaggie said.

"My dear, this is a matter that concerns us both, nothing more," I said sarcastically.

Charlotte looked at me challengingly.

"I'll be there." she said.

"Charlotte..." Vaggie said incredulously.

"Great." I said "And by the way, Angel..."

Angel raised his eyebrow.

"I can convince Mimzy to let Charlotte act as one of the stars until you recover. As a support show, Charlotte is a complete waste.”

I turned around and left the bathroom.

I chuckled to myself. I withdrew the paper bag from Husk's custody, who looked annoyed at me for leaving it with an order served shortly before, and I went to Mimzy's office.

Mimzy had a rather ostentatious dinner prepared, brought from Antoine's restaurant. Although she indicated that she had made it herself, it was impossible, since the local kitchen was not equipped to make that level of food. After a monologue on her part and finishing drunk, Mimzy fell asleep on the table. I figured as long as I closed the door everything would be fine, so at two in the morning I headed to Husk's bar.

There were very few people at that time, and not even the musicians were playing. There were only the loners who had gotten drunk whom Niffty had to roll to the exit, while she meticulously cleaned the premises.

I walked down the hall with a calm, confident step. I carried a paper bag in one hand, with the content that was due soon. Being Mimzy's fiancé had its advantages, I had to admit. I felt like the supreme king of that place. I could do and undo as much as I wanted and nobody could refute me. So, the sight of a small person in a very bad mood interrupted my trajectory, and caught my attention. She was leaning against the wall, but her intentions appeared to be, as she looked at me with her only true eye in sight, to wait for me.

"Good afternoon, Vagatha." I said insidiously.

"Sorry, Mister Alastor, I can't let this happen." she said impassively.

"Oh? Why would that be?” I said, raising an eyebrow, amused.

"You are going to look for Charlotte and I will not let that happen." she said, twitching her nose in rage.

I laughed out loud.

"How funny!" I exclaimed.

I tried to move forward, but she stepped in brandishing a knife. I looked at her, amused.

"Stop right there, you son of a bitch!" She exclaimed “I know your game. I won't let you hurt her again. ”

"Oh, if I wanted to hurt someone in this place ...I WOULD HAVE DONE SO ALREADY." I threatened.

She stared at me, stunned.

"I didn't know my dear Charlotte had a bodyguard. What a charmer." I said, laughing.

"She is my friend, and I will protect her." she insisted.

“Charlotte is not a helpless creature. The more you overprotect something, it is an indication of how little confidence you have of its capabilities, or that it can defend itself on its merits. ”

I put the tip of my finger on her knife and diverted it from my path.

"Or, in other words, you underestimate her at sickening levels." I commented, narrowing my eyes.

"No! I just don't want other people to hurt her!” she tried to defend herself.

"Charlotte doesn't need a babysitter, or a watchdog, darling," I said, raising my hands.

"But she needs a friend now more than ever."

"'Friend' you say?" I said, widening my smile, and tapping my chin with my finger, "Your way of looking at her is not exactly 'friendly.'"

She crossed her arms and looked away, annoyed. I tickled her chin with my finger. Vaggie bared her teeth menacingly.

"Smile, dear! You're never fully dressed without a smile,” I said, shaking my finger at her patronizingly.

She frowned even more.

"You won't get past here." she demanded.

"Oh, do you think you can stop me from talking to her?" I said sarcastically.

"You don't deserve to talk to her after how you made her cry." she replied, crossing her arms.

I widened my smile.

"My interests are greater than your motives, my dear," I said maliciously.

"I won't let you see her." she settled.

I laughed heartily. I leaned over to her and whispered insidiously.

"Don't you like the idea that I'm not with her?"

She looked at me, scared.

“You go to great lengths to keep me away from her. And those good intentions don't necessarily go hand in hand with Charlotte's happiness or what she wants… but it is at someone else's convenience.”

She looked away nervously.

"If you think I do this only because of how I feel about her, you're very wrong," she said, “She is a good person, and she doesn't deserve to be treated like you were treating her. Dismissing her feelings for you.”

"I don't have to justify my motives, my dear, least of all in front of you."

She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at me suspiciously.

"Why did you do this to her, sir? Why did you excite her and then get engaged to someone else?" she said, annoyed.

"You are a delight in trying to solve other people's affairs, my dear. But this only concerns Charlotte and me. Now, as your future boss, I order you to let me through."

She looked at me defiantly for a few seconds, and I continued forward without flinching. Finally (and with a little resistance), she stepped aside, and I was able to move on.

"If you do something to her, I won't hesitate to hurt you." I heard her say behind me.

I chuckled.

"How fun you are." I scoffed.

I kept walking, not doubting that Vaggie's gaze was glued to my back.

I got to the living room and looked around.

I found Charlotte at Husk's bar, with a glass of wine in her hand. It was funny to see her drinking. It was not common to see her with a glass in her hand, except for the wine she drank at Antoine's restaurant weeks ago, but her elegance and delicacy was evidenced by the simple fact of how she held the wine glass. She took it by the shaft, drank the wine in small sips, and held the liquid in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. Despite staring blankly at the glass, Charlotte looked splendid.

I walked over to her and sat next to her.

She jumped when she woke up from her daydream and looked at me in surprise. She immediately frowned.

"Mister Alastor, good evening." she said coldly.

"Greetings, my dear." I said with disdain.

I looked at Husk, who had raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here so late, weirdo?" he said.

"Privileges of your future boss, my friend." I said, unfazed, "Would you be so kind as to give me a clean glass, my dear Husk? I would like to share a little of this good wine.”

Husk growled, but took out a glass, half filled it with wine, and held it out to me.

"Thank you!" I said.

He looked at me suspiciously.

"Now, I would ask you to withdraw." I smirked at him, "I have issues to discuss here, and your presence is no longer required."

"What are you...?" he almost complained.

He looked at Charlotte, who was still staring at the liquid.

"If he does something to you, scream, girl." he muttered reluctantly.

"Oh! How moving!” I scoffed "Since when have you been assigned to take care of alcoholic ladies?"

"Shut it! Anyone with common sense would walk away from you!” he contested.

He took a bottle of cheap alcohol and swigged it hard.

"I'm getting out of here!" he exclaimed sulkily.

Then he was cursing under his breath.

I chuckled and looked at Charlotte. She fiddled with her cup, spinning it between her fingers. Once Husk's footsteps were lost down the hall, silence reigned in the place.

"I see that they all have been very fond of you here, my dear." I said casually.

"How can I help you?" she said after a few moments, without looking up.

"Of course, I wanted to know if you know the careless girl who left all this in my house," I said, putting the bag on the table, “I can assure you that none of this is my size. So, my intention is to return it to you.”

She squinted at the bag.

"That girl doesn't need any of this. You can throw away all that or donate it, if you want to do an extra community service,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

"It would be a waste to throw them away, considering the crisis, dear," I said, resting my head on my hand, "And if that girl doesn't want them, you may as well keep them."

She turned to me, defiantly. Her eyes were so sincere. She was angry. She was hurt. Her fists were closed and her shoulders were very tense. A delicious expression that I couldn't fully enjoy, because it was on her face.

"What do you want from me, Mister Alastor?" she said in a firm voice.

"Can't I come say hi to a former colleague at work?" I said, widening my smile.

She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice slow.

"I thought that with the humiliation you gave me at home, it had become clear to you that I don't want to see you again," she said.

"Is that so, my dear?" I said, cocking my head.

She stared at me, with her precious eyes in a wild state.

"Did you really think it would be that simple to get rid of me?" I said sarcastically.

"What do you expect of me? If you don't tell me clearly, I'll think you're harassing me.” she said quietly. It was almost a plea.

I turned to drink from my glass. It was a fairly poor quality wine. I ran my finger around the circumference of the rim of the glass.

"Your absence at home is very noticeable, darling," I said, looking passively at her.

She remained impassive.

"Razzle and Dazzle are looking down lately," I said, turning to look at her.

"Have they eaten well?" she said, with a glow of concern.

"Today they ate a little more, but yesterday they didn't have a bite." I commented.

"I see." she said.

She turned her chair around and stood up.

"Well, if you have nothing more to say..." She started.

"I also miss your presence," I interrupted, without looking at her.

She stopped in her place.

"You chose to miss me when you decided that I was no longer important in your life." she said neutrally.

I laughed out loud.

"Oh, dear, I have never told you that you were not important," I stated.

"I didn't need words, sir." she said coldly "It was you who decided you didn't want me to be a part of your life."

I looked at her in interest.

"Did you really think I would sit quietly, watching you get married and receive Miss Mimzy's dealings, on a daily basis, as my boss?" she said indignantly.

"Certainly you two don't get along well." I accepted.

"It's not for nothing I no longer work for you."

I stood up and looked at her. She did not flinch.

"You decided to leave."

"I was not according to your plans, sir. My presence would only create discomfort for you and your future wife if you were still at home. I understood that very well,” she whispered.

She crossed her arms.

"I understood the message." she concluded.

I hated seeing her like this, almost as much as seeing her sad. Avoiding my presence. Looking away. With her colorless cheeks. Maintaining the dying distance between our bodies. And at the same time, seeing her in that upright and challenging posture was so enticing. I kept my hands on my back to stop my urge to touch her. But she was still there, ignoring my hands anxious for her skin, and my dry tongue, which yearned for the balm of her mouth.

I saw that her intentions were to end the conversation and leave me alone in that place. But I took a step in front of her, to stop her from advancing. She looked at me haughtily.

Oh, her angry eyes were glorious. I ran my tongue over my lips and smiled broadly.

"I am a communicator, darling," I said with pride, "But if you are not receiving the correct message, it is my responsibility."

I put the tips of my fingers on her chin to elevate her face. She moved away from my touch and looked at me with reproach.

"Res non verba." she said definitively.

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Oh my dear Charlotte." I said, squinting "I can assure you that in a few days, you will hear my message loud and clear, if you can read between the lines."

I took the bag and held it out to her.

She stared at me suspiciously. I kept smiling. My security was not going to weaken before that beautiful creature, which threatened to destroy what I had built with her mere existence. I will not deny that the silent thought of ending her life with a certain blow had not crossed my mind. But not her. The loss I would experience would be greater than the gain of not stepping on the same land as me.

After looking at it in silence, finally, she took the bag with her things and passed me, towards the exit.

"Good evening, Mister Alastor." she said. coldly.

"Rest, darling." I said freely.

I was alone in front of the bar. From inside my jacket I found my favorite knife. I took it out of its case and saw my eyes reflected in the sharp blade. My shadow fluttered at my feet. He looked at me, giving me a ghostly scowl.

"We have a lot to do, dear friend." I said solemnly, putting away my dagger again.

I removed a few specks of dust from my suit and headed for the exit.

The following days were by far the most exhausting I could remember. Even the days where I was intimate with Charlotte hadn't required as much physical effort. The only thing I did in the following nights was hunt. But I didn't focus on my beloved deer. Oh no. I would take care of prey of greater value and difficulty: I hunted criminals. In abundance. Indiscriminately and without stopping. I hardly slept, I hardly ate, I only thought of finding every scourge of society nearby.

I stayed up late at night on the streets of the city, sending my shadow to investigate. Almost every time, he came with excellent news. Each name and face in the archived list of fugitive criminals had been very useful to me in my work. The shadow of each person keeps the secrets that he does not dare to pronounce, and among the ghosts the sins of their bearers are whispered.

I pushed myself to insane limits. With an uncontrolled and insane passion for the blood of each one of those filthy monsters. In the middle of the freezing night and in the mist of dawn. With my face and my suit sprinkled with the delicious red of their bodies. Catching, sewing, tearing, cutting, stabbing and thundering fingers. Delighting in the terrified gaze and their pleading tears for their pathetic lives. The darkness sheltered it. And although on a couple of occasions it had been sighted (in a clumsy oversight) by a curious passerby, a simple spell of confusion prevented them from getting very far with information, potentially unfavorable for my purpose.

With each passing day the name of “The Vigilante” became more and more present. By word of mouth, in the murmurs of the townspeople, in the voices of the children who sold the morning newspapers, in the headlines, in the news that I myself dictated with glee on the radio.

I was everywhere. There was no way she didn't know about me.

A little over a week after starting my string of murders, I took the time to go visit Mimzy's Palace. It was then that I heard Charlotte chatting with a small group of staff, in one of the spare moments in her rehearsal. I stared at them from the bar. Mimzy had allowed me to drink as I wished, without restrictions. And at that moment I was drinking the expensive whiskey from Husk's secret reserve, to celebrate myself for the triple murder the night before. They had been men who had defrauded many families with the promise of a lucrative business with foreign fabrics and, owing to the bank for a loan, they lost their homes. How arrogant they were, thinking that they could buy their forgiveness with vile money just before I sewed their mouths and quieted their unpleasant voices.

"Have you heard that The Vigilante killed an entire gang that trafficked slaves?" Vaggie said.

"Ha! I heard that he killed a group of thieves who were at large 2 months ago, near the swamp," Angel Dust replied, smoking from his mouthpiece.

"I heard that the prison has not received new people for days. Crime has dropped a lot." Niffty said, still dusting with her feather duster "And you, Charlotte? Do you know anything about The Vigilante?"

Charlotte was eagerly mending a dress.

"No. I am not very interested, really." she lied firmly and naturally "It only kills criminals, right? We shouldn't worry."

"But don't you think it's very strange? Suddenly he started killing many more criminals." Vaggie said with a hand on her chin "Before, it was one or two a month, now, there are practically nine in a week, at least."

"It seems like he just wants to get noticed, and tell everyone: I'm here and I keep doing this because I like it and I can," Angel said, waving his hands like spiders in the air.

"Do you think it's just because he likes to kill?" Vaggie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Rather it seems like a message class." Niffty said with a big smile.

"A message?"

"Yes! Like when you start doing something in a very marked way to remind others that you are there." she explained, jumping up and down with excitement.

"Do you think he's sending a threat to someone?" Vaggie said, frowning.

"Or a message of love!" Niffty pointed out.

"Ugh, it would be a very cryptic one.” Angel Dust said with a grimace.

"But what does he want to prove by killing a lot of people? What does he want to demonstrate? That he's better than others? That he's smarter than the police?" Vaggie said thoughtfully "We can't rule out anything from a phenomenon like him."

"Well, smarter than the police, that's it. They haven't caught him, they don't even know what he looks like.” Angel said, fiddling with Fat Nuggets.

"You must have a stronger reason to go to so much trouble." Niffty said, shrugging "Why choose only criminals? He could kill anyone. Orphan children and beggars abound on the streets, but they are not his targets. I still believe it is a message.”

"Come on! What kind of psychopath kills so many criminals just to send a message to one person?" Vaggie said, unconvinced.

Charlotte instinctively averted her eyes at me and I returned her gaze, with a satisfied smile. I raised the glass of whiskey in my hand, in a gesture of 'cheering' for her.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. I drank what was left of the whiskey and set the glass on the table to retire.

I was on a streak. I could not stop.

Every drop of blood spilled was a missive just for her. Every time my knife was tarnished with carmine it was a caress on her face. Every corpse left on the floor, a promise. I soaked my hands and snapped my fingers. I stained my face and snapped my fingers. My suit would be impeccable first of all after every encounter with those unhappy people. The satisfaction, the excitement, the power I obtained, the euphoria of being their executioner and being the last thing they would see before descending into hell. It was all wonderful. I was that same power. I could feel it run through my hands like never before. It was unstoppable.

And my message was coming. I knew it. She was getting it.

_I am here, sweetheart. Can you hear?_

_I keep doing this for you. I'll say it in the best way I know how to do it: letting my knife speak for me._

_Charlotte, I'll be direct. If I didn't care, I'd kill anyone, but I know that would make you uncomfortable, dear. And it is not my intention that your life be sustained by the blood of an innocent. Take it as an attention from me._

_I will make this message clear. It doesn't matter how many times you need to repeat it. You'll hear it in every whisper of boring New Orleans people, in every newspaper headline or morning news. Until you fully grasp my manifesto and don't doubt my word._

_So this gentleman's statement will come to you in a loop, my dear Charlotte:_

_I'm still here and I do this, because I like what I do. I like to feel this emotion. I like to end miserable unwanted people in the community. And I know you like it too. Your eyes and skin are extremely sincere. And the emotion generated by what I do, you cannot hide. We share that taste for blood. I know that you will not be able to stop thinking every night, before sleeping, what I am doing and what will be the name that everyone will whisper as my next victim._

_But above all, I want you to have no doubt that I do this, because I care more about you than I am willing to admit while looking you in the eye._

_My words cannot dignify how I feel about you, darling. So I will let the eloquence of my actions and the edge of my knife speak to you._

_Res non verba, my dear._

I was exhausted, but I wanted to continue. It led to over forty murders in two weeks. It was music for me to hear the name of my alter ego on everyone's lips. It made me feel powerful and revered. But my physical wear began to show when I knew I was completely absorbed in my night activities. Some noticeable bags had positioned themselves under my eyes and a slight beard indicated that I hadn't shaved in a couple of days.

During my workdays, I got to drinking four cups of coffee in one morning and I was constantly alert. The news of my murders was the first thing I mentioned every morning with enthusiasm. Then followed the hours of community services and frivolous results of a sports game. But what stood out the most in those days was the news of a new singer who was all the rage among Mimzy's Palace customers, reaching the point where she was mentioned on the radio at least three times that week.

She was called Le Ange blanc, and Iwas dying of curiosity to go see her on stage.

"Alastor dear. You look so tired," Mimzy said one day, at lunchtime.

Without realizing it, I had stopped listening to her chattering about every detail of her "wonderful Italian shoes" for the wedding, and had gotten lost in a bean on my plate.

"Oh, it must be the stress of the wedding!" She said, nodding with compassion, "But don't worry, silly, I have everything under control. I have already transferred 31% of the investments to your account with my lawyer. You just need to sign the papers and that's it.”

"Magnificent." I said, smiling.

"Oh! By the way, I found some wonderful earrings that match... "

And she kept talking without listening, really.

When Pentious himself went to drop the account total, he looked over Mimzy's shoulder and turned to gaze at me with pain in his eyes. Finally, he turned his face with an offended air and withdrew. That man was really strange.

We returned to Mimzy's Palace and Mimzy commented (quite loudly) that she had already booked a dinner for Tuesday afternoon, during the Mardi Gras parade. Most of the people who went to the streets to see the floats, looked for a good place to drink and continue hanging out, after the event ended. She told me that she had left everything in Vaggie's hands and that we could have a moment alone. She said she had a surprise for me after the show. I saw where she wanted to go, but I didn't say anything. She took it as an acceptance and smirked.

That night, I stayed for the show and did not go “hunting." Mimzy went off to do her administrative duties, and I watched.

The attendees, mostly men, carried many more gifts than usual. Multiple times, I had seen the mediocre attempts of the clients to try to conquer a girl from the show, only to end up being thrown from the premises due to their rude insistence. But, that day, they were more evident. There were many white flowers in different types. Roses, lilies, hydrangeas, even white tulips.

I kept looking at my glass, thinking about my next move. I wasn't really watching the show. But there was something. The mention of a name made me look up from my glass.

“We reveal to you our newest star! Le Ange Blanc!” shouted the presenter, extending his arms and withdrawing from the scene.

The cheers were immediate. Everyone in the room applauded expectantly and some even jumped.

The lights went out. The huge red curtains opened. A searchlight illuminated a lone figure who appeared in the center of the stage, and everyone was silent.

It was Charlotte. She was on her head, lowered and sitting on a stool. Her legs were crossed and her hands were firmly gripped on either side of her seat.

In all the days I was engrossed in my murders, I hadn't realized that I hadn't witnessed any of Charlotte's numbers.

And she looked completely different.

Exuberant. Magnificent. She looked like a vibrant, gleaming deity.

She was head to toe dressed in white with glitter glittering in the spotlight. Only her eternally rosy cheeks contrasted with her body. She wore a bodysuit with bare legs and a neckline, adorned with feathers, that drew the upper line of her breasts. She had a ruffled white mesh stole at her hip and thigh-high white stockings, attached with garter belts. Long gloves covered her delicate arms and high heels. She had a white top hat and a little headdress on it that looked like deer antlers.

It took me a few seconds to wake up from her charm. She was the most beautiful and sensual woman I had ever seen. Her body, usually covered in my mother's wide dresses and the daily chores, had not done justice to her appearance. Now she gave off all the femininity of a woman. The contrast between us was more noticeable than ever. She glowed all white in the spotlight and I acted in the shadows, with the blood of filthy criminals on my body.

She leaned into the microphone in front of her and started singing.

**You had plenty money 1922**

Some isolated screams encouraged her to continue. Music began to accompany her right after. The audience accompanied her by snapping her fingers to the rhythm of the melody.

**You let other women make a fool of you**

**Why don't you do right, like some other men do?**

**Get out of here and get me some money too?**

She spoke into the microphone as if whispering into a lover's ear. Little passionate gasps seemed to mingle with the words. Her voice had hypnotized the entire audience. Her eyes were still closed, completely absorbed in the music.

**You're sitting there wondering what it's all about**

**You ain't got no money, they will put you out**

**Why don't you do right, like some other men do?**

**Get out of here and get me some money too?**

She opened her eyes and stood up. She slowly raised both hands and took the microphone stand gently. Her bearing and elegance were hypnotic. Her hips moved slowly to the music of the piano. She was a true angel. Graceful and heavenly, singing to simple sinners.

**If you had prepared 20 years ago**

**You wouldn't be a-wanderin 'out from door to door**

**Why don't you do right, like some other men do?**

**Get out of here and get me some money too**

"I tell you, she is going to be my wife," I heard a young man whisper to his partner at a nearby table. He had a huge bouquet of white roses with a red bow next to his chair.

I smirked. Stupid delusion. He would never measure up to a woman like Charlotte.

**I fell for your jivin 'and I took you in**

**Now all you got to offer me's a drink of gin**

**Why don't you do right, like some other men do?**

**Get out of here and get me some money too**

**Why don't you do right, like some other men do?**

**Like some other men do**

After giving the final long note of her song, the audience erupted into standing applause. Charlotte gave a simple bow of the head and headed backstage.

I tapped the opposite shoulder of the young man who was talking about Charlotte. As soon as he turned around, I stealthily stole the bouquet of flowers on the floor and left from there. The subject did not notice the theft and continued to clap animatedly as the curtains closed.

I walked towards the dressing rooms at a steady pace with the bouquet of roses in my hands. There was a lot of movement of changing scenes and some dancers in can-can costumes passed in front of me. Then, I looked at the mirrors that were next to each other in rows of three. Each dancer seemed to leave her makeup and items on the table in front of the mirrors. Each mirror had many light bulbs that surrounded it to illuminate the face of the one who was getting ready.

"Hello!" I heard a familiar voice next to me. It was Angel Dust, who wore a pink wig and a body-fitting fuchsia suit with long black high-heeled boots.

He approached me and made a little walk with his fingers on my shoulder suggestively.

"Oh, you didn't have to bring me flowers!" he said, delightedly trying to take the bouquet, but I pulled it out of his reach just in time.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my effeminate friend." I said politely "But I'm coming to see Charlotte."

"Ugh! Now everyone is coming to see Ange Blanc!" he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance "If I didn't like her, I would have already tried to trip her."

And then he pointed to the mirror farthest from the front door.

"You've recovered from those nasty bruises, from what I can see." I said, peering out of the corner of my eye.

"My charm is above intolerance and beatings." he said haughtily.

He looked at me with a nasty smile.

"I suggest you bring something better than those simple flowers to the Ange Blanc," he said, amused, “That girl is pretty and talented. She has all kinds of men at her feet. If only you knew! Lawyers, doctors, even a politician, are interested in her. You have a choice. Before we realize it, she will undoubtedly get married and move away. And how sorry will be the one who did not make a commitment in time!”

I went immediately to Charlotte's station, ignoring Angel's annoyed laugh.

Charlotte was there, reading a card from one of the many bouquets that covered the entire surface and floor of her area. She sighed in annoyance and threw all the flowers angrily on the ground, leaving them strewn. She leaned against the table to calm herself.

"Oh sweetheart! If that's how you treat flowers, I think I chose the wrong gift,” I said behind her. Charlotte was startled and turned to look at me. Her eyes widened in surprise and she was speechless for a few moments.

"What are you doing here?" she said, puzzled.

"How are you, my dear?" I said, holding out the bouquet of white roses, "I brought you white roses. Quite in line with your outfit, really, ” and I laughed.

She took the flowers and put them on the table. She turned and looked at me, arms crossed.

"Thank you very much." she said stoically "You can leave now."

I looked at the beautiful flower bouquets on the ground and took one of the cards. I couldn't help raising an eyebrow while reading.

'My beloved White Angel, please accept this humble present with all my love. I look forward to the day when our souls come together and we can yield to desire without guilt, driven by true love that unites us. Just give me an order and I'll leave everything I am and possess to run away together.

Always yours, Arnold Bronche.'

"Touching." I said.

"Quite a poet, right?" she said, huffing her nose.

"I guess one of your new followers." I said, as naturally as possible.

"They are not nice. The one who wrote that is about sixty years old and twenty-two children with four different women,” she said, disinterestedly, "I know, because Angel has reproached me all these days that I took one of his best clients."

"Popularity tends to attract all kinds of people," I said tossing the stupid note into the air, "And also, for all these flowers, I conclude that they are not at all subtle with their intentions."

"It is not the kind of care I seek," she said, leaning on the table, while sighing, “Singing on stage is enough for me. Some are quite insistent and I have had to ask for help, on more than one occasion, to get them out of this place.”

She sighed and crossed her arms.

“It is uncomfortable how invasive they can be. Even within the cast there are those who insist that this place should be called 'Ange Blanc's Palace,' because it is what everyone is talking about, ” she said, annoyed.

"Envy shows its face when others do better." I said simply.

"Frankly, I never thought I would reach those levels of popularity."

With a quick gesture I raised Charlotte's chin and leaned toward her.

"I know sweetheart," I said in a whisper near her face, “The stage loves you. You cannot blame those who are not blessed with art, who can only observe, amazed, at what you can do. Your voice is a siren's song and your beauty makes the moon hide its face in shame when you appear. ”

She looked at me with glassy eyes. She pursed her lips and forced herself to look at me.

"Why are you here?" she said, frowning.

"Hm? Oh, backstage?” I said with ease “I am an investor. I have full access to this entire venue.”

She removed her face from my hand and took her distance.

"You know what I'm trying to say." she said in an exhausted voice.

I did not answer and took one of the white roses from the table.

"You are asking an unnecessary question." I said, raising an eyebrow.

There were a few moments of silence. I began to remove petal by petal, nonchalantly, while she looked at me imploringly.

"We need to talk." she said authoritatively.

I chuckled and turned to look at her.

"Do you finally want to talk, sweetheart?" I said, triumphant.

"But not here," she said, standing firm, “It's not safe here. Tomorrow in the Congo square at five in the afternoon. On the bridge. Close to the jazz band.”

I looked at her closely. Her sharp eyes, her red lips, her upright posture. My desire to touch her was almost unbearable. With my hands clenched into my back, I stood firm in front of her.

"There I will be, my dear." I said softly, "Try to be punctual. Miss Mimzy plans to drop by at six. ”

I tossed the stem of the petalless rose in my hand. I bowed to Charlotte.

"See you tomorrow then, mon ange blanc." I said, and stood up.

We stared intently for a few moments. I was feeling restless. Immensely so. But I was determined to demonstrate my serenity to what she had to say to me. Although that meant a whole day of agonizing waiting.

With nothing more to add, I turned around and retired.

The next day, I was promptly sitting on the bench in Congo square. I had been waiting and impatient all day for five o'clock to strike. The musicians in the park were a few meters from me, playing a soft jazz that made the atmosphere of a spring afternoon more enjoyable. There were only a couple of people in the distance. Most people were looking forward to the Mardi Gras parade several blocks from here. I was wearing my bespoke suit made by Rosie for the fancy dinner with Mimzy in another hour. I had even brought my cane and a bowler hat. But I had dressed especially for my meeting with Charlotte.

The minutes passed, so my foot began to move, restless, seeing that Charlotte had not yet arrived.

Suddenly, I saw her. With a simple cotton dress and a bag in hand. She walked gracefully towards me. In all her facets, she had a different charm. I had to admit that admiring her from afar had allowed me to see her shine from another perspective. More mature, safe, and wild. My dear Charlotte had grown up.

"Charlotte dear! You honor me with your presence. When was the last time we spoke?" I exclaimed, standing up.

"Good afternoon," she said.

"Why have you invited me to this place that is so little crowded, darling?" I said, cocking my head.

"Don't act innocent, Mister Alastor." she said, annoyed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling." I said calmly.

She frowned. She looked around before speaking to me.

"You wanted to get my attention with all those murders. I appreciate you safeguarding the safety of my soul, but it was too many." she said quietly.

"Too many, treasure? Nothing is more spectacular than a good bloodstained stage. The audience went wild!" I exclaimed, opening my arms.

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Don't you think it was overkill?" she said skeptically.

"The streets are safer now." I said simply.

"People see him as a saint. He has avenged many of those affected by those criminals.

"Oh! You should go see poor Themis in the cemetery! She has so many letters of thanks and gifts that you can hardly see her anymore,” I said, examining my nails.

"Wherever I go, they just talk about you."

"So... mission accomplished."

I leaned in close to face her. She snorted in frustration.

"Do you want to stop pretending? What do you really want?" she said bitingly, "Do you want me to thank you obediently for how dependent my life is on your murders? Or is it just because you enjoy doing it, and say it's for me?"

I chuckled lightly.

"Oh, I don't hide how exhilarating killing criminals is for me, Charlotte. Since you shouldn't be trying to hide it either..."

Suddenly, she slapped me. Surprise puzzled me for a second. The throbbing of the blow to my face had been so exciting that I had to restrain all the thoughts that came to my mind in an instant. I looked at her. Her face was flushed and she looked at me, offended.

"Don't talk about those things on the street." she said.

I laughed out loud, excited.

"I missed those demonstrations of passion on your part, dear." I said, ecstatic.

"We are not talking about that, Mister Alastor." she said with dignity "I need you to tell me exactly what you want and get this over with."

"Over with? Oh dear, I think my effort to put on a decent show for the entire town has misrepresented my main goal.” I said, putting a hand on my chest.

I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I snapped my fingers and the jazz musicians in the park went into a trance and suddenly changed to a much more lively tune. I swung my cane in my hand until it hit the ground. The lights on the street lamps changed to red, which matched the sky.

I turned to Charlotte, who seemed surprised.

“I have gained a lot of power with the murders. And I thought I was pretty clear with my actions. But the truth is, if you need vile words, I may as well accompany them with music, dear," I said, putting on my hat.

**The maddest kind of love**

**Is a love you know is wrong**

**It burns a hole, right through your soul**

**And cuts you like a knife**

**The maddest kind of love**

**Is a love you know won't last**

**It fills your heart with passion**

**Makes you lie about your past**

**You know I speak from experience**

**I live it each day**

**It's something she does**

**It's something she'll say**

**It's the maddest kind of love**

**The maddest kind of love**

**Is a love just for the thrill**

**It doesn't have a conscience**

**Only lives, for the kill**

**The maddest kind of love**

**Is a love you know's a lie**

**It leaves feeling empty**

**Too weak, too cold to cry**

**You know I speak from experience**

**I live it each day**

**It's something she does**

**It's something she'll say**

**It's the maddest kind of love**

**It's a mad, mad love**

**It's the maddest kind of love**

**It's a mad, mad love**

**Wooooooooo, Yeah!**

**You know I speak from experience**

**I live it each day**

**It's something she does**

**It's something she'll say**

**It's the maddest kind of love**

**It's a mad, mad love**

**It's a maddest kind of love**

**It's a mad, mad love**

**Ooooooooooh yeah, you're in love**

**(Yeah)**

**Don't fall in love...**

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooh…**

I turned to look at her, snapped my fingers again, and everything I had conjured disappeared. I heard the murmurs of jazz musicians who came out of their trance to look confused, and the lights of the lamps returned to their white light.

"Was that an acceptable statement?" I said, putting my hat on her head.

She seemed to wake up from surprise to feel the hat. She snorted through her nose and looked at me with a strange mixture of outrage and relief.

"You love me." she confirmed.

I widened my smile.

"Undoubtedly." I said, with my hands on my back.

We stared in silence.

"Then why didn't you tell me when I confessed how I felt?" she demanded.

I huffed. I put my hand on her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with my thumb.

"I know you want to be with me, sweetheart. And it's gratifying to know, because I want to accept that self-denial, but at the same time reject it."

She looked at men, confused. She massaged her temples, seeking patience.

"I don't understand, you do want to be with me, but you don't want to be with me." she concluded, with a hint of exasperation in her words.

"A confusing feeling, but true." I accepted.

"You are still committed to another woman and look for me, hoping that I correspond to you." she said, annoyed "And do you expect me to be satisfied with something halfway?"

"We certainly deserve no less than complete and exclusive mutual adoration, Charlotte."

"With murders on my behalf, that will not make me want to return. I cannot forgive you for making me go through such bad days after you rejected me... and now you come with this," she said, opening her eyes, incredulous and angry.

"Let's point out that I never rejected you. I just told you it was a terrible decision to love me." I indicated, calmly.

"But I did want to love you and live my days with you." she said, hurt.

I cocked my head.

"Honey, I've spent years keeping myself out of worldly problems. Impeccable composure and worthy of envy, and then suddenly, everyone noticed that I have a blonde, laughing weakness fluttering around. It was very awkward." I explained.

She kept staring at me defiantly.

"And then that was it? Fear of knowing yourself vulnerable by my presence? Were you afraid everyone would see me as a kind of 'weak point'?” she said, annoyed.

I gave her a meaningful look.

"And did you imagine you'd go back to your original plans, hoping there would be no repercussions with me?" she said, raising her eyebrows, "You wanted to get away so you wouldn't have to see me, but you have only looked for me."

"I do not deny it."

“You tried to keep your distance to avoid feeling like this. And for acting so selfishly, you only managed to hurt us both.”

"In simple words."

"Did you really think that's how things worked?" she said incredulously.

"It was a risky move that ended with the disastrous consequences that are obvious, darling." I said, lifting my shoulders.

She looked confused and upset.

"Well, I think that's the dumbest thing you've ever done." she said, folding her arms.

I adjusted my glasses with a sigh of resignation.

"You may question my methods, sweetheart, but thanks to this you have accomplished the feat that I never thought could happen: that I might be completely honest with what I feel," I said seriously.

"It is well said that it takes two idiots to fall in love." she said, raising an eyebrow.

"We will keep that a secret, sweetheart," I said, showing my teeth.

She ran a hand over her face.

"It is not easy, dealing with you." she said, squinting, annoyed.

"I know, but it's worth it." I said, giving her a big smile.

Charlotte smiled slightly, then sighed.

She pondered for a moment.

"Don't make me regret it." she said.

It was then that she took something out of her bag. Whatever she had in her hand, she held tight for a few moments. I looked at her closely and I must admit, I began to feel uncomfortable with her prolonged silence.

Finally, she offered what she had in hand to me and I took it with curiosity. It was a key with a wooden key ring, with the number "302" on it, and a folded piece of paper. I raised my face to ask for an explanation, but she was already withdrawing.

"What is this, Charlotte?" I asked.

She turned, and looked at me haughtily with a half smile.

"It is time to make decisions, Alastor," she said out loud. She took off my hat to signal me goodbye and put it back on.

She continued on her way and I stood there, confused. I looked at my hand again and unfolded the paper. I opened my eyes in surprise.

_Roosevelt Hotel._

_Room 302._

_Today at 8 tonight._

_Do not be late._

_Charlotte_

I laughed out loud.

Oh my sweet Charlotte.

Disappointment would not be within my range of possibilities ever again.

That night, after dinner at Antoine's restaurant, we had gone to the Roosevelt Hotel. Mimzy had invited me to spend the night in a marriage suite. She had repeatedly bellowed how much she wanted to sleep in that hotel on her wedding night, but apparently she had seized the opportunity as soon as she could. I just followed her without resistance, to which she seemed delighted.

The room was very spacious and well lit, with the elegance that only a high-end establishment can project. Mimzy excused herself from me and went to the bathroom with a bag she had been carrying throughout the evening.

I sat on the edge of the double bed with my pocket watch in my hand, watching the time go by. I had only taken off my jacket and untied the bow tie from my neck.

"Ali Aaal..." I heard her say melodically behind me.

Mimzy appeared on the threshold of the room, leaning against the frame with one hand and with one on her hips. She was wearing a long pink satin gown with feathers. She had a flirty look set on me.

"Is there something you need, sweetheart?" I said, unfazed.

"Oh, Al! You are always so elusive.” she said, laughing and moving closer until she was in front of me "But today, you are allowed to run wild."

She dropped her robe to the floor and showed off pale, pink, transparent underwear with lace.

"I don't need your permission for that, sweetheart." I said maliciously.

She giggled.

"Do you like it?" she said, turning around "This is all just for you."

She smiled lewdly at my silence. She leaned toward me, took my face, and kissed me. Kissing Mimzy was like kissing a wall. It caused me absolutely nothing. The contrast with Charlotte's kisses was truly surprising.

I pulled away immediately and Mimzy took it as a shy gesture. She tried to approach the buttons on my shirt, but I withdrew her hand. She pulled away and looked at me, confused. I quickly stood up and grabbed my jacket.

"Al? Al, what are you doing?” she said, puzzled.

"I'm going out." I said looking simply at her.

"What?!" she yelled "Alastor, I prepared this special night for both of us!"

"I know," I said without interest, putting on my jacket.

“Today we were supposed to finally have sex!” she cried indignantly "Do you know how long I've waited for this?! Don't you want to be intimate with your future wife?! ”

I looked at her haughtily.

"Oh no, honey." I said, smiling "The deal was to get married. Nothing else. I have no intention of being intimate with you, not today, nor ever.” I pointed out.

Mimzy was shocked. Her face was one of true despair.

"Are you trying to say that you expect us to sleep together without anything ever happening for our entire lives?!" she screamed in horror.

"Who said anything about sharing the bed?" I said, cocking my head, "You'll sleep in the room across the hall. I would not like to share the same room with you.”

She lost her breath. Her eyes were wide. She came running towards me and grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket forcefully, and made me bend over.

"You said you were in love, Alastor!" she screamed, furious and on the verge of tears, "And that's why you were going to marry me!"

"Oh, I didn't lie. I am in love." I said calmly.

Her furious expression gave way a little.

"But not with you, my dear." I said, looking her straight in the eye.

I looked at her face with delight.

“Ours is just business. Nothing else." and I gave her a jagged smile.

My words shocked her to the point that she released my jacket.

"Your proposal was about the investment I would have on Mimzy's Palace, and the royalties I would gain from marrying you," I explained, "But I never planned to meet the expectations of your romanticized idea of marriage."

She put her hands on her cheeks slowly and fell to her knees on the floor. I straightened up and stretched the wrinkles that had been made on the fabric.

"It's Charlotte, right?" she said in a small voice, "She's the one you're in love with."

"Do you really have any doubts, darling?" I said calmly.

"And you thought I would be happy marrying you, but without having your love?!" she said desperately, "What makes you think I won't get you to love me by the time we're married?!"

"That is simple, my dear. It's not for nothing have we just been friends, for so long. You're funny, but you're not what I look for in a woman, Mimzy. Not before, not now, not in fifty years,” I said maliciously.

After a few moments of silence, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry loudly. I looked at the clock again. It was getting late.

"Well my dear, I have to go now." I said, putting my watch in my pocket, "Enjoy the rest of the night. Wine and chocolates come at the hotel's expense.”

With a quick movement, Mimzy stood up and took one of the glasses on the table and threw it at me. I managed to dodge it, and it smashed against the wall.

"FUCK OFF!" she yelled throwing the other glass at me "FUCK YOU, ALASTOR!"

I left the room the moment she took the bottle of wine, and it struck just as I had closed the door. Then I heard her muffled screams and shrieks of angry crying as she smashed everything at hand.

"Well, that turned out better than I expected." I thought animatedly.

Then, I headed to room 302 of the hotel.

I was honestly relieved. With this discussion, Mimzy would want to end our commitment, but she had already signed 32% of her store as an investor, so it was not a real waste of time. It had been really exhausting to have to be cordial with her during these days, enduring her tobacco aroma, her drunkenness at the end of each meal and the preparations for a wedding that I didn't feel like making. Frankly, I felt like it took a weight off me, telling Mimzy the truth.

I was in love. In love with that young woman who came naked into my life and who I could see growing before my eyes, until she became a woman. In love with that woman who made me moan her name and with whom I liked to laugh, sing with, and caress to my liking. In love with the only woman with whom I was willing to share my days.

And love meant weakness, and giving out an arm to twist. A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her. But I had fallen and accepted this abominable feeling, as long as it allowed me to be close to Charlotte. If that was the price to pay, I would take it.

Upon reaching the third floor, I was surprised to feel anxious. I rhythmically knocked on the door and waited. A little later, the door was opened for me.

Charlotte was standing, as majestic as ever. She wore the tight red dress with an elegant V-neckline on her chest and a cut from the thigh to the floor, which she had shown me days ago in my room. I could see part of her right leg, and her black panties that went to her thigh. Her high heels gave her an intimidating demeanor and her lips were a wonderful carmine color.

She was a goddess, and I was a simple sinner.

"Good evening, Charlotte." I said, as naturally as possible.

"You're late." she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry for being late." I said with a bow "Miss Mimzy did not accept with dignity my denials of privacy."

Charlotte smiled with resignation.

"Might I pass?" I said.

"I already paid for the room." she said, stepping aside.

We entered, and she closed the door behind me. The room was exactly the same as the one I was sharing with Mimzy up until recently. It even came with the same red roses and the bottle with chocolates included in the stay.

"Do you want to drink some wine, sweetheart?" I said, taking the bottle from the table.

"Didn't you drink from the one they had in her room?" she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Mimzy threw the bottle at me just as I walked out." I said, pouring some wine in a glass "I very much doubt that she'll want to continue with our nuptial agreement after my sincerity."

I drank a little and set the glass on the table. I approached Charlotte.

"What did you say to make her so?" she said with a smile.

"Just the truth, sweetheart." I said, leaning down to kiss her hand.

To my surprise, she lifted one leg and put her foot on my shoulder. She began to apply force as she buried in her heel. I understood her intentions, and gave in to the pressure of her foot until I was kneeling in front of her. She was looking at me haughtily, and I was looking at her expectantly.

"What are you doing here, Alastor?" she said in a deep voice.

"Now you take me on?" I said.

"You are no longer, nor will you be my boss," she said, raising an eyebrow, "We are on equal footing from now on, Alastor."

I chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." I said, amused "You asked me to come."

"And you came."

"You wanted to see me."

"And you me." she assured.

Her overbearing demeanor, the way she looked at me, and the heel that pained my shoulder was turning me on. She looked like a demon in a red dress.

"I cannot forgive you for having been engaged to another woman, Alastor." she said with a slight frown.

I chuckled softly.

"What could I do to receive your forgiveness, treasure?" I said sarcastically.

"Beg." she said firmly.

I felt a surge of outrage mixed with burning pleasure. That woman was asking me to beg on my knees for her forgiveness. No one made me accept a mistake. Then, I noticed that part of her crotch could be seen. I raised my eyebrow and looked at her.

"Do you really expect me to beg to you when you're not even wearing underwear, Charlotte?" I said sarcastically, "Here it seems like you are the one crying out for me to take you."

I removed her leg and lunged for her, firmly grasping her wrists. I expected a passionate response from her. I expected a selfless surrender like so many times before. But no. It was completely different. Charlotte just looked at me with a raised eyebrow and smirked.

"Oh, do you think this will be on your terms, my dear?" she said, in a deep voice.

Before I could say anything, she gave an order. A simple order that I didn't see coming.

"Let go." she said.

Her voice was authoritative and clear. It was impossible to face the force of her gaze and her presence.

Then, I released her. I stepped aside and she rose from the bed gracefully. I was out of breath. I was deeply impressed. That facet of my Charlotte, which contrasted with her natural shyness, was fascinating. That biting look that was directed at me, as she walked gracefully, swinging her hips until she reached the rose table. I could see the scars on her back, that her tight red dress left in plain sight. Her blonde hair was pulled back over one shoulder, allowing me to see her snowy neck. She was all a drug, meant for me. Addictive and precious.

She was a complete invitation that beckoned me. I wanted to take her. I wanted to touch her. But her words had stopped me. I could not violate that order. I looked at her expectantly, as she approached something I hadn't seen: a record player, and the bowler hat she had taken that afternoon.

I stood up to approach Charlotte, but she waved her hand and I immediately felt my legs buckle, falling onto something soft with a back. She had invoked a chair in the room for me to sit on.

I looked at her, puzzled.

"We haven't finished talking yet." she said, amused, taking the hat.

She turned off the light switch. Then my fingers snapped and a light appeared on me, like a stage reflector. They thundered again and a light fell on her too, this time with the bowler hat on her head.

I opened my eyes wide, impressed and excited. She put the pick on the record and the music of a sensual tango began to play.

It was then that she began to sing as she approached me.

**I remember you said long ago**

**That I would be the star of your show**

**In the end though, I see it was lies**

**I've just come back to reclaim what's mine**

She walked around me, running her hand over my shoulders.

**I've been working here patiently between the lines**

**Creating perfection takes torment and time**

**But, never the less, I've still been through it all**

**And now they all see I'm a doll**

She sat on my lap, and before I could take her by the waist, she stood up, pushing my hat to my face, only to walk away, again.

**Face it**

She snapped her fingers and the light from her reflector disappeared, only to appear elsewhere with another light.

**Everywhere you look around it's my domain**

**No one else deserves it more, it's in my name**

**And if you behave yourself, I'll set you free**

**It's clear, you belong to me**

She stroked my face and then walked away.

**Oh, don't you dare mistake me for another fool**

**I'm the one who pulls the strings, now you're my tool**

**Don't you understand, my little errand boy**

**Here you are only my toy**

**And you'll be mine**

The light went out again and she kept singing in the dark. I listened to her next to me.

**A great creator once said, it's much more art than science**

**As long as you believe you only need the right appliance**

**A bit of blessing and caressing, with a lot of work**

**And in due time my deers you all will see the perks**

I felt the chair withdraw from me and I fell to the ground by gravity. She appeared in front of me with another reflector.

**Now understand who you're working for**

**I'm up in heaven**

**You're on the floor**

**And soon you'll see I have much in store for you**

**It's less than a chore**

She touched the tip of my nose, playful.

**Now, don't you dare mistake me for another fool**

**I'm the one who pulls the strings, now you're my tool**

**Don't you understand, my little errand boy**

**Here you are only my toy**

I stood up and saw her look at me intently.

**And you'll be mine**

**I won't let myself be lead astray again**

**I should have known better than to trust a friend**

**Blinded by the hopes of having dreams come true**

**Now I know what just to do**

**Let those vermin come to me**

**Just let them try**

**I'm the angel everyone adores with pride**

**Not even the devil now can take me down**

**Infamy and fortune abound**

I looked at her in disbelief and euphoria. She was fantastic.

**Don't you dare mistake me for another fool**

**I'm the one who pulls the strings, now you're my tool**

**Don't you understand my little errand boy**

**Here you are only my toy**

**And you'll be**

I fell to my knees at her feet.

**You must be**

She yanked her hair free.

**You'll trust me**

She came up to me and tugged on my tie.

**They'll all see**

She leaned towards me and I put a possessive hand on her waist.

**It will be**

She approached my face and caressed my cheek.

**Mine**

Without realizing it, I had fallen to my knees before her. Charlotte was holding my untied bow tie firmly with one hand and caressing my face with the other. She breathed, agitated by her song, and looked at me with fire in her eyes.

If before I had always wanted to do things my way, now I wanted only slavery. I was at her complete mercy. I wanted to be. Needed to be. I adored that woman. And if I hadn't taken her yet, it was because I expected her full consent.

"Ask me what you want, Charlotte." I said, without acknowledging my own plea.

Her lips curved into a smile.

"Will you stop your shit and come with me, dear?" she said, with sensuality.

I only nodded once. She seemed satisfied.

"Then we have a deal." she whispered.

She snapped her fingers and darkness enveloped us.

The next thing I felt were her burning lips attacking my mouth, and her hands tugging at my shirt, popping the buttons.

Thus, under cover of night, we loved each other fiercely, in rampant and violent outbursts like we had never experienced before. Without even taking our clothes off completely, we unleash our passion. She was in control all the time, and I allowed myself to be possessed by her burning kisses, her hungry hands, and her hips that moved incessantly over me. Biting, scratching, licking, pulling and squeezing. I had missed her so much. My body acted out of inertia and wildness. She decided which position to take. She ordered me what she wanted to feel, and with what intensity, and I gladly obeyed, taking her hips tightly and ramming her without mercy. She even tried putting my member in her mouth. Blessed be that woman and her singer's tongue and throat.

I must have gone mad. I wanted to mark her as mine. Stain her, as a male marks his female. I didn't care about anything, and our union was complete, brutal and perfect, in a powerful and longed for climax. And I did not regret it. I did it over and over again. What a glorious feeling she had deprived me of! She was looking at me triumphantly. She asked me for more, and I gave it to her. It was a delight to feel the viscosity of how much I had filled her in her vagina, and I made her reach violent orgasms that had neither modesty nor the decency of being silent.

Who knows how many times we did it until we fell, exhausted, sweaty, and satisfied in each other's arms. With all the strength I had left, I stroked her hair, and she hugged me tight.

"How did you know I'd be here tonight with Mimzy?" I said, after a while.

"It was hard to ignore her chatter." she said, smiling. "I think half New Orleans thinks that, right now, you're having sex with her."

"Nothing further from reality." I said, smiling.

“Angel helped me get the reservation. The hotel owner's son is his frequent customer.” she said maliciously.

"I guess I should thank him. I will remove him from my list of homicide candidates.” I said.

She laughed and rested her head on my chest. Her magnificent aroma was intense and intoxicating.

"I missed you," I whispered.

"I know," she said, satisfied.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment.

"Today, I signed the papers that increased my earnings from Mimzy's Palace." I said.

"I suppose you got something good out of all this." she said.

"There has to be something very wrong with you for you to like someone like me, Charlotte." I told her.

"I can say the same for you." she replied simply.

I laughed.

Suddenly, her eyes widened and she straightened up.

"What time is it?" she said.

In response, we looked at the clock on the wall. It was eleven o'clock at night.

"We have to go. But first I will go to bathe.” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Something wrong?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"My show is at one in the morning. I have to close the Mardi Gras season with a song.”

I chuckled.

"The busy life of a star." I said.

"Mimzy will probably fire me tomorrow, so I have to give my grand finale." she said wearily, but smiling.

I approached her from behind and kissed her neck.

"I'll come with you, darling." I said.

"I did not expect anything less." she said, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAS! The longest chapter so far.  
> Now to pamper myself XD  
> I will have to wait a long time for the next chapter. There is much to put in order. uwu
> 
> Music!!
> 
> With the Alastor murders, I imagine this as the background song .w. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-Yg9N-q0Ok
> 
> You're My Everything ~ Al Bowlly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OknPkPBRnrs
> 
> Ambrose & His Orchestra - Stormy Weather, 1933 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGp55bOrHvM
> 
> Why Don't You Do Right? (Jessica Rabbit version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNjnoogVGkU
> 
> Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - Maddest kind of love https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YXSD4r7LRjo&feature=youtu.be
> 
> Alice's Tango (You Will Be Mine) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aG6zP1EKYcY
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Translation by:  
> MerlinIsland  
> https://twitter.com/MerlinIsland?s=01  
> And  
> Neredia  
> https://twitter.com/Neredia1?s=01
> 
> Follow me on Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


	16. Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte's winding road.  
> WARNING:  
> EXPLICIT CONTENT.

I turned the handle and stepped into the hot water of the shower. I needed to get a quick shower and prepare to perform my song at the closing of the Mardi Gras to be held at Mimzy's Palace. The warmth of the water that soaked me advanced from my neck to my back making me let out a satisfied sigh. I ran my hands over my face and noticed the reddish marks on my wrists, with the clear shape of Mr. Alastor's fingers on my skin. My eyes looked at my breasts, nibbled and with reddish spots that soon turned into bruises. I watched my scratched hips noticeably due to the power of our encounter. And the brutal rhythm that we maintained during the last hours was evident in the trembling of my legs. I was exhausted but satisfied.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled. It was the first moment of peace that I felt after living several difficult days. I smiled and bit my lip to suppress a cry of excitement. Mr. Alastor had chosen me. He had responded to my invitation and had arrived in the room at the appointed time. I smiled at the memory.

Upon entering the room, he strutted in a false mask of tranquility, which did not deceive me. I could see how impatient he was. I thought it was delicious to see him in that situation. I wasn't aware of that part of myself that I enjoyed seeing his anxiety. I loved seeing him nervous about what I was going to say. Looking at his hands moving restlessly, trying not to be tempted to caress me. Looking at his pleading eyes waiting for any word from my mouth to end his agonizing wait. All this generated an unknown pleasure in me.

It made me feel powerful to be aware of what I could generate in him. How desperate he could feel waiting for the chance to speak to me. His constant murders spoke for him. I was able to take him outside the limits of his unstable sanity.

Angel was right. He was desperate for my attention. And it made me feel so good to know that his desire to be with me had not subsided, and that on the contrary, it had only been fueled by distance.

I sang for him and showed off all the practice of magic that I had in my moments of solitude at Vaggie's house. All my performance managed to incite him more. He kept his eyes on me and seemed amazed at what I was doing. Approaching him, brushing his shoulders with my hands. I was making him more impatient and I knew it. I had that insane longing to force him to be honest with me. 

I wanted to see him beg. 

I had brought him to his knees before me, as I could never have imagined. His eyes were one step away from madness as he looked at me from the floor, asking for my consent to touch me while I held him by his bowtie. 

"Why don´t you just cut the crap and come with me, dear?" I told him.

That silent nod of his head was enough to please me.

"So, we have a deal." I concluded.

I snapped my fingers. Darkness enveloped us and I kissed him. 

I kissed him with contained fierceness after weeks of waiting. He attacked my mouth with the burning desire of his lips and his agile tongue met mine. He stood up, still kissing me and held me possessively to his body. He stroked my exposed back with desperate hands. One of his hands reached to the nape of my neck, entangling his fingers with my hair to get closer to him. I enjoyed that passionate kiss. Our moans and breathing were the only thing that echoed in the room. After a few minutes I had to separate from him to get air, but seconds later I attacked his neck and he shuddered when he felt how it bit him and then licked his skin. 

"My dear ..." he whispered, delighting in pleasure.

He hugged me tight around the waist. I fought to remove his jacket and managed to slide it to the ground. I pushed him onto the bed, and he fell sitting on it. I reached out and sat on his lap with one knee on either side of his hips. I yanked open his shirt and a couple of buttons popped out. We kissed without giving ourselves time to breathe, as if wanting to make up for all the time we were apart. I scratched his chest and he dug his nails into my buttocks. Somehow his nails sharpened when we had sex. I attached my exposed crotch to his hard lump (only the fabric of his pants separated us) and he started to move. He seemed eager to open the fly of his pants, but I did not allow it. He had to suffer the wait a little longer, although that meant I also had to be patient. I moved over him, moistening the fabric of the pants with my fluids. I threw my head back, groaning and breathing hard. What a wonderful feeling! I looked at him again.

"My dear, this is torture ..." he said, in breathy whispers. 

I smirked at him and shook my head, mocking. 

He was shaking with rage at my refusal, so he took my breasts and was brutal with them in retaliation. He squeezed, nibbled, sniffed, and sucked like he never had, while holding his other hand tightly to one of my buttocks. If we continued at that rate, he would soon climax only by the intense rubbing of my sex against his. Then I stopped. He looked at me offended and trembling. I smiled at him.

"I told you this would be on my terms." I reminded him, in a deep voice.

"I begin to feel the weight of the deal I accepted." he said, narrowing his eyes.

"There are things I want to try before you're done, honey." I said, getting off his legs. 

I knelt before him. He followed my movements expectantly. I opened the damp fly of his pants and looked, with satisfaction, at the huge boner that had my name on it. I took his member with my hand and began to pump slowly. Almost unbearably slow. I listened to his whispering moans with each of my movements. He let out foul words that, in his usual composure, were not spoken. At one point, I reached out and kissed the tip. That seemed to startle him.

"What are you ...?" he asked. 

"Shhh". I replied

I took a breath and opened my mouth to put it all in. Being careful not to brush against my teeth, I began to suck. He definitely didn't see that coming. I saw his face, twitching at that new experience. His smile full of fascination and his eyes fixed on me, gave me the confidence to continue. He shook my head in rhythm, and I delighted to hear his groans and his short breath. The salty taste and warmth of his member were pleasant. Despite it being the first time, I did, I kept concentrating on remembering the advice Angel had given me to make sure he was enjoying it. I took it out to catch my breath for a few seconds and then continued. It was quite invasive, really, but I got used to it quickly.

I increased my speed and felt him clench his fists against the bed, while making a loud moan. When he felt his climax come, he took me by the nape of the neck to prevent me from withdrawing. I felt his throbbing orgasm fill my mouth and let it flow freely as he moaned in victory. It was the first time we had done something like this, and I did not waste a single drop. 

Once he regained consciousness after that overwhelming sensation, I stared at him in the dim light of the room. His breathing was ragged, and he had an undeniable surprise in his eyes. 

I carefully withdrew, stood up and smiled at him. 

"You are full of surprises, my dear ..." he said. 

"Any complaints so far?" I said mockingly.

"None, darling." he said, with a wider smile. "I just think we should have tried this earlier."

I laughed and shoved him back. I climbed onto the bed, straddling him. I ran my hands across his bare chest, down to his shoulders, stroking his arms, down to his wrists, and holding them tight. I leaned down, clinging my breasts to his chest, until I brought my lips close to his ear. His wonderful aroma of coffee and blood reached my nose. I exhaled with delight. 

"There are still many things to try, Alastor." I whispered in his ear. 

I dug my nails into her wrists. I felt, to the touch, how his skin stood on end. His smile and his excited look confirmed that he was more than willing to try everything with me. I kissed his neck. Nibbling and sucking on his sensitive skin, then I kissed him on the mouth again. He kissed me back being aware of his own taste on my tongue. Gladly, I saw that I didn't need to "revive" him for long. Even though he was exhausted from his constant "community service," that part of him seemed especially energetic. I was delighted to know that he had missed me as much as I had missed him. 

I stood up and looked at him.

"Come here, honey." I said playfully.

Without asking his permission, I took his erection and inserted it into me. I was more than ready to receive it and it entered completely at once. The moan we gave in unison was spontaneous and powerful. The feeling of reconnecting was glorious. Our bodies had yearned for weeks to come into contact with each other. And for a few seconds we lost ourselves in that sublime feeling. I opened my eyes and we looked at each other. We didn't need words to ask for more. 

I released Alastor's wrists and sat completely on him. Without further words I began to jump on him firmly and calmly. He was freaking out at my slow pace.

"Charlotte ... dear, please ..." he said, looking at me with wishful eyes.

I smiled and put my forefinger to his lips, to silence him. He opened his mouth and bit my fingertip. 

"Let me pick up the pace, impatient man." said

"I don't think patience is my ally right now." he said, as a warning. 

I moved my hips a little more over him, savoring that feeling of that new position. Since we had begun to be intimate, he always held the reins in the positions, always leaving me as a receiver, indicating that he was the boss. But like this, it was me who could enjoy the view and have all the power to handle the rhythm and intensity that I wanted. 

So, I started to increase speed and my breasts started to jump. He immediately took my hips and squeezed my buttocks to help me with strength. I was at my limit. I was elated. All that previous stimulation and the pleasure I felt were taking me to the gates of heaven. 

It was then that I saw his expression. He was about to finish again, and I thought he would ask me to withdraw like all the previous times, to stain my body. But he didn't. I continued a little longer and he kept saying nothing, absorbed in giving me strong spanking. 

"Alastor ... what ...?" I tried to say, impressed.

He just smiled maniacally at me and didn't stop.

His look. His magnificent look that made me shiver on my back made me understand his intentions. Emotion washed over me. He was going to do it. The very thought stirred me inside and derailed my thoughts. The sense of danger was exhilarating to new levels. He gave me those eyes thirsty for desire that I loved. With even more momentum I kept jumping on him. I wanted it to happen. Oh, how I wanted it to happen! I wanted to be the only one who had it. The only one with whom he did it. I was not willing to lose him ever again. And so, I continued, determined, without pauses. 

And it happened.

He released his orgasm inside me. Gorgeous and brutal. Hearing his whimpers of pleasure, his completely collapsed composure, burying his nails in my buttocks to the point of leaving reddish marks, and feeling how something hot and sticky invaded my interior with spasms of his member, I felt in paradise. I finished a few seconds later. I threw my head back, my back arched, and I gave myself completely. The liberating feeling of my own climax was wonderful. I gave an unseemly, utterly indecent cry for a lady. But I did not care. The tingling sensation of fire and joy invaded my body with violent tremors. That wonderful feeling that only my beloved Alastor could provoke in me. 

There had been weeks of waiting in which my body screamed to be with him. Opportunities to calm those anxieties with any client of the Mimzy’s palace were not lacking, but I just wanted to have him. I was completely faithful to him, even though I knew he was engaged to another woman. I was faithful to that man who kept me awake, that man who had done everything to get my attention back, that man who had just completed our union to the end, for the first time, without caring about anything. As if a kind of animal desire had invaded us. He put aside all fear, to be with me without ties marking me as his partner.

I looked at him, panting and happy. It had been extraordinary. The biggest orgasm I have ever had in my life. He looked at me the same way. With his breath caught, his ever-cared image of serenity destroyed before me. Ecstatic agitated and happy. This was the Alastor that no one but me had the right to see. 

But I didn't want to stop there. Not now. I lowered my body and stayed on him. I gave him a short kiss and smiled at him. 

"You are glory to me ..." he said, barely. 

"This is just beginning, darling." I said. 

For every possible answer, he just smiled at me. 

And we continue like this for hours. We take our time to recover, without caressing or kissing each other. Feeling the null distance between our naked bodies, before things heated up again. And had it not been for the closing of Mardi Gras at Mimzy’s Palace, I would have stayed with him until the other day. The physical effort I had made left me with my legs trembling and my exhaustion was present once we emerged from our cloud of euphoria. Mainly for that reason I was taking a shower; in order to revive me. Just snapping his fingers was more than enough to remove our remaining fluids, but the magic didn't take away the fatigue. I needed to have all the energy possible to sing on stage.

I got out of the shower and put on the bathrobe that the hotel had in the bathroom. I found Alastor in the room, almost fully dressed. He had his coat folded on his arm and was drinking from the wine that had been left in the background after our meeting. 

"Do you want a drink, honey?" he said, approaching me, offering me the glass. 

“No thanks, I have to stay as focused as possible on my act.” I said, taking my bag "And already, I feel quite exhausted.” 

“Quite a pleasant exhaustion, certainly.” he agreed. 

I took off my bathrobe and put on my underwear. He wouldn't take his eyes off me. 

“You have lost endurance for our activities.” he said sarcastically. 

“Oh, but you've been constantly exercising lately.” I said, in the same tone. 

"What can I say? I needed to get the attention of a certain elusive lady and it required all my effort.” he said with a smug smile. 

He stood behind me, put his hand on my waist and kissed my neck. I turned my head and kissed his cheek. With my hand I caressed his soft chin, recently shaved. 

“You looked good with a beard.” I mentioned him.

“Oh, it's too much work to keep it under control. I prefer just to cut it.” he said simply. 

"The exhausting life of “The Vigilante” left its consequences." I said, wrinkling my nose as I smiled.

“I intend to pause my string of murders, my dear. There have been enough for this month. Now, I think about evoking other types of activities ... more "stimulating" that will leave me exhausted at night. " he said with a big wicked smile. 

I couldn't help but chuckle. I took off my dress for the show and started putting it on. It was a white dress with thick straps, with glitter on the fabric, very elegant and close-fitting, with short mesh sleeves. 

“I will have to go dressed for the show, I have no time to lose.” I said, with resignation.

“Fairly modest for a closing show.” 

“Oh, this dress is special. You will see." I said winking at him. 

I turned around and showed him my back with the dress fly open. 

"Would you help me?"

“Sure, my dear.” he said, squinting. 

Intentionally slowly, he pulled the zipper up and once it was done, he pressed his lips to my ear. 

"Do you really have to go?" whispered lustfully. 

I shuddered to feel his breath brushing my skin, I was strongly tempted to stay with him thinking about what his voice promised me. But I had to focus on my responsibilities. 

“Yes, it is a compromise. But after that we will have all the time in the world, I promise.” I said, conciliatory. 

“I will take your word." he said maliciously. 

I went to the small dressing table in the room and quickly put powder on my cheeks, some blush, shadow in my eyes and my red lipstick. 

“I'm glad you don't use exaggerated makeup like your peers.” he said. 

“The image of "El Ange Blanc" comes with the stamp of being the purest thing in the room.” I explained, while putting away my cosmetics. “Angel Dust is the one who has the hallmark of exaggerating his makeup.” 

I put on the white stockings, the heels and the long white gloves that matched my outfit.

"In this way the evidence of our meeting will not be seen." I said in an accomplice tone.

He laughed.

I inspected myself in front of the mirror and felt I was ready. 

"What do you think?" I said turning around so he could see me from different angles. 

He looked at me closely and put on his coat. From his pocket he took his knife out of its sheath and showed it to me. It was the same one he used to murder criminals. I stared at my reflection on the knife blade. 

“My dear, if we don't get out of this room right away, that dress will end up torn by my knife and I will have intimate activities with you again.” he said elegantly. 

It made me blush and shiver. My reaction seemed to amuse him. He put the knife back in its sheath and put it on the inside lining of his coat.

“So, I look good.” I concluded, trying to overcome myself. 

"Divine." he said, nodding. 

Even with everything I've been through, he could still make me blush with a simple compliment. 

“Thank you." I said. 

I took my hair and raised it like a ponytail. I turned to look at myself in the mirror meditating on my appearance. 

"Do you think I should fix my hair like this or ...?" I said thoughtfully. 

He approached my neck and inhaled deeply. He sighed with satisfaction. 

“My warning was serious, Charlotte.” he said in a deep voice. 

“Oh sure, sure.” I said, a little alarmed. I didn't want the prop dress to end up torn. 

I put on my coat, grabbed my bag and took a last look in the mirror. 

Innately I approached him, buttoned his coat and tidied up his bowtie, lovingly. We stared for a few moments and I felt a nice tickle in my chest. Those were gestures that were born spontaneously between us when I was still living with him, it had been almost a month since I had stopped doing it. He leaned towards me and caressed my face. 

“It will be a delight to get used to it again.” he said. 

I laughed lightly and looked at him fondly. We left the room and locked the door. He offered me his arm and I took it, glad, then we headed to the elevator. 

"Is it comfortable walking in those shoes, dear?" he said. 

“At first I had a hard time getting used to it.” I admitted “But with some practice they are quite manageable. Although, if you give me a choice, I prefer low heels.” 

“Looking good doesn't always mean being comfortable. In my case, the sock suspenders get annoying after a few hours.” he said frankly. 

“Oh, but I like your socks. " I said, cocking my head curiously. 

He laughed loudly. 

“A rare compliment, but thank you, darling.” he said, catching his breath. 

He was in a very good mood and I was more relaxed. We reached the first floor and walked through the elegant hall. The place was full, there were bellboys with suitcases and travelers who were passing by to witness the Mardi gras parade that had already ended at that time. Many of the people present had yellow, green, and purple bead necklaces around their necks and were laughing and chattering in apparent drunken spirits. In a few hours the period of Lent would come, so it was the last chance to be noisy. 

“It's a shame not to have seen the parade.” I said, somewhat disappointed "I was hoping to go see the floats this year.” 

“Other opportunities will come. We will go without fail next year. Although, personally, I wasn´t bothered by the private panorama we had instead of the parade.” he said mischievously. 

I laughed. 

“I agree." I said. 

We went out into the street and the cold of February hit us suddenly. I got closer to Alastor and we started our way down the sidewalk. 

"Are you going to sing just one song then?" said. 

“Two. You heard one of them in rehearsals, the other is debut ... and farewell, "I replied, with a discouraged smile. 

I sighed. 

“It was fun participating in Mimzy’s Palace. But the fact that you came to my hotel room tonight also meant that I would definitely be fired.”

“Mimzy will certainly retaliate against you.” he said thoughtfully. "But it will be me who is in the crosshairs of her contempt, along with the bottle of wine she threw at me.” 

“Mh...” I muttered, uncomfortable. 

“There is no need to worry about her, honey. Mimzy doesn't have the quality of being dangerous on her own.” 

“I still wonder, what did you say to him? You must have said something very bad for her to throw you out of the room like that.” I said, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at me, haughtily.

“She made a wise guess about my feelings for you, dear. I just confirmed them, "he said. 

“Then she must have seen it coming.” I said, blinking in surprise. 

“There is no worse blind man than the one who doesn´t want to see.” he said simply. 

I looked at him curiously. 

“She must have considered it a kind of victory against you the fact that I accepted her proposal. She always suspected that our relationship was far from being exclusively work. She didn't stop to think for a second why I was going to marry her. The reason was always the economic advantage that I would gain.” 

I frowned. 

“I never knew how you proposed to her.” I said seriously. 

“I invited her to eat at a restaurant on the coast. I offered her a cheap ring and my exact words were: 'Mimzy, I accept your marriage proposal, because I am in love.' And she immediately accepted.” 

We maintained a few moments of silence, while looking at the road, meditating. 

“A proposal with free interpretation.” I said finally. 

“Indeed." he said. 

“And she didn´t doubt that it was she with whom you were in love.” I said. 

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. 

I can more or less imagine how the rest of the dinner went on.”

“After that, it was only a monologue on her part, where she focused on talking enthusiastically about the wedding preparations until she was drunk. It took me a long time to get home that day, because I had to drag her home in that deplorable condition.” he said. 

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but he seemed really uncomfortable with the memory. 

“Don´t be surprised that she doesn´t want to see me again.” he said. 

"Were you really planning to get to the altar with her?" I said incredulous. 

He put his hand on his chin and thought about it for a moment. 

“Frankly, I don't think I even attended the ceremony.” he said, lifting his shoulders. 

We crossed the street. The Mimzy Palace was just a couple of blocks away. I could see people walking around animatedly and singing. No one seemed to pay special attention to their surroundings. They just lived in their joy. 

“In my head I saw it quite clearly.” He said “I didn't want to be with you to avoid feeling like this.

“And you used Mimzy to make it official.” I stated.

“On paper, it was a good plan.” He said frankly

“Feelings that bother you cannot simply be "turned off" like a radio switch.” I reminded him, with annoyance.

“Indeed.” he admitted. 

We were silent for a part of the way. Although technically we were now “officially together”, he still needed clarity of his thoughts. Especially since his ways of doing things constantly confused me and now more than ever, I needed that clarity. 

"You don't usually regret your decisions." I said, looking at him from the corner of my eye.

“There is always a first time for everything." he said with a knowing smile. 

I frowned at him, annoyed. He let out a sigh. 

“But I admit that knowing that you were away from me and that you didn't want to see me, was much less pleasant in praxis. A terribly awkward situation that I will try to avoid from now on.” he said without looking at me. 

I sighed with resignation, but I couldn't help but smile. 

“If I have to do so many extra hours of my ‘community service’ for you to speak to me again, I will try not to make you angry frequently.” He said, squinting his eyes, amused. 

“It will depend on no one but you that I don't want to get away from you again.” I said, feigning disinterest "And that goes hand in hand with the formalization of this situation.” 

“Do you want to work for me again?” he said, bowing to my height. 

“Alastor ... " I replied, frowning. 

He chuckled and stopped walking to look at me. He leaned down to kiss me on the lips in the middle of the street. I really didn't see it coming. Those kinds of expressions of affection were exclusive to our moments alone. But I reciprocated his kiss. A few moments later he pulled away a little and we looked at each other. 

“It is certainly a pending issue. But something so important isn't wise to discuss it on the street. We'll talk about it at home tomorrow with ease, okay?” he said softly. 

I smiled, satisfied. 

“All right." I agreed. 

I rested my head on his side and he put his arm on my shoulder, so I could get closer to him. And we resume the walk. 

“You don't have to go home today if you don't want to.” I said, after a few moments "The hotel reservation lasts all night and includes breakfast.” 

“I came prepared, after your subtle invitation to the hotel, I assumed I would need a change of underwear.” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

I laughed. 

“Nothing seems weird coming from you anymore.” I said. 

It was still strange calling him by name. It made me feel different. Alastor was no longer, nor would he ever be, my boss ever again. The least I could do was treat him as an equal. The last instance I called Alastor as a superior was during the days when I believed he would become my boss at Mimzy’s Palace. When I believed, for agonizing days, that he would be Miss Mimzy's future husband. But not anymore. Their marriage was officially a thing of the past and, to some extent, I couldn't help feeling bad for Miss Mimzy. 

I started thinking about her and how she would be synthesizing the news. It must have been difficult to hear that statement coming from the man who was going to be her husband. But I was also very relieved. I was aware that Ms.Mimzy´s motivations were not, precisely, to share his life with Alastor. I could see her enthusiasm for the wedding daily. But just that. Her great emotion for the ceremony seemed to be her main focus of attention and reason for happiness. That she was going to get married. But she didn't seem to pay attention to the smallest things related to the man she claimed to love. During those weeks, I saw Alastor very frequently, mainly during rehearsal hours, on weekends. And they chatted and laughed. And I was miserable. 

Ever since I learned of his marriage and worked as his servant, I felt compelled to silence what I felt. And when I stopped being his employee, I had to keep seeing him. It was agonizing. 

At first it hurt as if my heart had been torn and seeing them together was like putting salt and lemon on an open wound. But as the days passed and I concentrated on my act, I managed to see them together at times while I suffered in silence.

Angel was the main trigger for all my potential. He just excused himself saying that he was helping me just so I wouldn't make a fool of myself while I replaced his musical numbers. He was still recovering from the beating of which he had been a victim. 

_‘Look, I don't do this for you, precisely. Since you're going to replace me in my main acts until my face deflates, you have to be the best (after me, of course). So, I'm going to train you myself, little doll._ 'He said. 

But I was sure he was concerned with how I felt. I knew it, because he cared about taking Fat Nuggets to every rehearsal to distract me on breaks. 

Angel taught me how to dress according to the colors and what accessories fit me best according to my body. He gave me intensive classes on how to walk in huge heels (which required several training sessions). 

_“Babe, red looks wonderful on you. But white gives you an angelic air. And if you add reflectors and sequins ... "_ he said. 

But above all, he helped me show my best face to the public, even when I was completely broken. He told me that on stage I was not "Charlotte" I was "Le Ange Blanc", a sensual and confident woman who could conquer the audience with my voice. And being "that other Charlotte" helped me keep my composure when singing. It was almost like a mental exercise that allowed me to stay strong and unreachable for "normal Charlotte" problems. That duality had allowed me to exploit all my stage potential. 

_‘On stage you must be that majestic being that no one has the right to touch, doll.’ He said to me with confidence. ‘So, show me the sensual woman behind those long dresses. If you dominate yourself, you can tame the public.’_

And when I started performing, Miss Mimzy had no choice but to give me a small segment on her stage so that I could sing. People asked for my performance and, although that meant that they took away Angel's acting time so that I could go on stage, he was really satisfied with what he had accomplished in me. He was, really, someone very kind. 

Vaggie also helped me a lot. She got me a mattress, so we could sleep in the same room. Although she wanted me to continue using the bed, I insisted that sleeping on my mattress on the floor was more than enough. Our long talks about music and personal anecdotes gave me the opportunity to get to know her better. Her entire family had come from a Spanish-speaking country and her father had gotten a job on the Magne cotton plantation in the days when my uncle was already the owner and lord of the land. I was very careful not to reveal my past. Guilt, I had to change names and modify memories, so that she did not suspect that I was a Magne. I had told her that I had lost all my IDs and had no last name to carry. She noted how nervous I was about my past, so she concluded that my last name was a burden I didn't want to carry. She suggested I request a fake ID. I thanked her for her kind attention and hospitality. She did not charge me any rent in those days and out of respect for me, she stopped listening to the radio in the morning. I showed my gratitude by preparing lunch and dinner daily. Vaggie seemed delighted by my cooking, and I was truly happy to do something useful in her home.

Our routine was like this, although from time to time I remembered some comments, anecdotes or gestures that Alastor said in relation to the food that I used to make him. 

_‘Hey, I know you still like him. But you must move forward. It is not healthy to think about what could not be._ She had told me once during dinner _“He will marry Miss Mimzy and I know that you are going to overcome it. You are strong and you should not close yourself to new possibilities.”_

My mourning for Alastor's engagement weighed less on me with them around, with rehearsals that kept me busy, and with the laughter that came with playing Fat Nuggets at breaks or watching Husk being nagged during his naps during work hours. Even Niffty was kind enough to bring me some oatmeal cookies that she had made. Somehow, I felt like everyone was cooperating to try to cheer me up. And I really appreciated that. 

However, at night, when I looked at the sky in Vaggie's room and she was already asleep, I was left alone with my thoughts. Imagining what he was doing right now. Or rather, who was he murdering right now.

Since the night he had handed me my dresses, I had not spoken to him again. But I did hear a lot from him everywhere. The name “The Vigilante” resonated strongly in the streets of the city. In the past few days, he had killed at least two dozen criminals. Those victims included fugitives or people who were being prosecuted without evidence of their crimes. I knew that he could hear the sins of those people through his shadow, so there was no doubt that they were guilty for all their actions. But, as much as I wanted to stop knowing about him, that was what everyone was talking about. And I could not and did not want to tell anyone that this subject bothered me. I was just trying to show my best face as I listened to the club members' jabbering admiration for "The Vigilante´s" latest accomplishments.

To stay focused on my free time, I practiced magic. It required concentration and I was grateful that Vaggie had to be away for long periods to organize the girls, because Mimzy was too busy with her wedding preparations. On those occasions I dedicated myself to strengthening what little I knew. At first, I could only snap my fingers to turn the light in the room on and off, but then I managed to generate light sources and project them wherever I wanted. I could also move objects and levitate them. I had not lost the ability to make rainbows with my hands. Since I had started my classes, I was amazed at how easy certain spells were for me since I never killed anyone to acquire such power. Although, remembering Alastor's words the day I had left his house, he had told me things that, frankly, I hadn´t wanted to think too much about. 

I was a resurrected girl. My parents gave part of their lives to revive me and that is why they died young. My soul kept a terrifying and latent secret: the name of God. A powerful spell of great destructive power and made me dangerous to wraiths. They wanted to devour me before I could even remember it and become a threat to them. Which seemed crazy to me, because just a few days ago I thought I was a woman who had never gone through anything too extraordinary in her life. 

Then I remembered that all this had been thanks to the Magne's grimoire. Everything indicated that this book was cursed in some way. My parents died from a life-for-life pact. Alastor also made a life-for-life pact as well. And in both cases, it was so that I could continue walking among mortals. And if my heritage basically consisted of that book, it was pretty clear why magic came so naturally to me. Dad did magic, Mom did magic, my uncle did magic. I didn´t know how many generations had used that book and how long they had lived before succumbing to death. It was understandable why Daddy had taught me Latin. 

That Alastor had worked with my father was something he had not seen coming. Dad collected quite a few exotic animal figures, especially choosing the ones that kept a natural air. So, when we traveled, we used to come back with some trophy from remote lands. And since I was little he spoke of "his taxidermist" with admiration. He said he loved his precise sewing work and the skill he had in fixing the pieces he already had. And that story he told me, if we had both met from when I was little, I did not remember it at all. 

The truth is that I did not know whether or not to be upset to have found out all those details of my past. I mean, whether or not he was Dad's taxidermist didn't affect me at all. Maybe it made me feel angry that he didn't tell me before, considering the countless talks I had with him about my parents.

I preferred to stop thinking about it and concentrate.

The photograph of my parents stayed in the bag that I carried everywhere. It felt like an amulet. I was really anxious if I didn't take it with me. Even in rehearsals I kept it hidden in my bag. I didn't want anyone, not even Vaggie, to see that picture. It was my treasure. Mine, and nobody else's. 

As the days went by, I wondered whether to continue working as a singer or dedicate myself to be a seamstress. Continuing to sing at Mimzy’s palace meant continuing to see Alastor frequently. But a stubborn (and overly kind) part of me didn't want to stop worrying about him. From afar and in silence. Belonging to another woman. Even though I rejected any contact he wanted to generate with me because of how angry I was. I felt pathetic. 

But something happened. It was during Alastor's visit to the rehearsal on Saturday, exactly a week since we last spoke. 

It was a kind of private lunch; Prepared by Miss Mimzy at one of the clients' tables, while they rated each of those who were at the rehearsal. Alastor looked especially exhausted, but his smile did not waver. And Miss Mimzy didn't measure the volume of her laughter at any witty comment from Alastor. 

A lively chat while they ate. Nothing unusual for anyone who didn't read the details in that scene. But not me. I couldn't help spying behind the curtain during Angel's rehearsal. 

And if before I did not understand Alastor's hasty decision to marry her; watching them nothing made sense to me anymore. 

Miss Mimzy had her fourth cigarette on that evening. Alastor hated smoking. He never wanted to interfere in that vice and stayed away from those who dared to smoke in front of him. I had to bite my lower lip in outrage when she offered him one. 

_‘An unnecessary waste of money, and the clothes end up reeking of a badly extinguished fireplace. 'He had once told me_. 

Then I looked at what they had both ordered after their dinner. She was drinking tea with a cake for dessert. He did not like tea, considered it tasteless. Much less sweet things. But she insistently offered him to try her strawberry cream pie. And he kept rejecting her offer. 

_‘¡Come on, Al! A bit of cake won't hurt you”._ She said. 

I felt my brow furrow. She should know, if she planned to marry him. She must know his customs and respect them. She must know what the man she claimed to be in love was like. 

The topic of conversation they had, which was uncomfortable for him, was absurd: She talked (very lively) about adopting a dog for when they lived together. I looked at Alastor's face. He was still smiling, but he didn't seem happy at the idea. And his objections to her proposal were silenced by her chatter about an adorable poodle puppy that a friend had to give away and "how much he was going to adore it". 

Worst of all, he had no objection. He did nothing! Why was he trying so hard to maintain a relationship that was obviously forced? What did he plan to gain from that?

I was really angry. I didn't know why or with whom. But knowing that they had more differences than similarities made me feel very uncomfortable. They were heading for a resounding failure. How was it possible that he decided to take her as his wife if they didn't even get along?

_‘Charlotte? Are you ok?’_ Vaggie's voice startled me. 

_‘No. I don't feel well at all. Is it my turn?_ ’I said, covering my face with one hand _._

_‘Yes, but, if you don't feel well ...’_ she tried to say _._

_‘Don't worry, I can do it._ ’ I said with a smile _._

I inhaled deeply and exhaled several times. I needed to calm down. That couldn't distract me. On stage I wasn´t Charlotte, I was Le Ange Blanc. The confident and most powerful version of myself. Le Ange Blanc was above all mundane things. Especially the pain and sadness. The Ange Blanc was above him. 

I had to thank Angel Dust for helping me find myself. He himself had been the one who named me The White Angel for my "angelic" face and (in a very self-referential way) showing me as his masterpiece. 

Taking one last breath, I gained the mental strength to enter the scene. When I got to the center of the stage, where there was an old chair and a bowler hat. I looked at Miss Mimzy and Alastor seated, watching me with interest. Seeing him so serene made my anger against him overcome my sadness. If he prioritized his financial comfort over what I was going through, it would cost him dearly. It didn't matter how many criminals he had been killing in the past few days. I knew it was to get my attention in some way. But still he did nothing to fix that awkward engagement situation. His decisions had made us miserable, but I wasn't willing to accept his shit without saying a few things. And having the opportunity, I was going to take it. 

I put my hat on gently and sat on the chair, crossing my legs. My posture was secure. With my eyes, I gave the signal to the band and they began to play a happy tune. And I stood up gracefully. 

Alastor looked especially attentive to my hip movements and my fingers snapping to the beat. I played with the bowler hat and put it on. I connected with my inner being and started singing. 

**_I saw you out in the streets again takin' chances_**   
**_Wearing your shark smile and your cat eyed glasses_**   
**_Drinking and dancing, movin' in the dark_**   
**_But don't forget now darling that I'm also a cat_**

I gestured with my hands, scratching the air. 

**_I've made my decisions since you made me feel blue_**   
**_Now an old gypsy lady's curse, honey, is on you_**

I moved confidently and looked directly into Alastor's eyes for half a second, before beginning to dance. 

**_Oh, honey, a gyspy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

**_A gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

I moved sensually, running my hands behind my hair until it fell out. I took bold steps that rattled on the wooden floor and moved my hips, raising my skirt above the knee. I used the chair to lean on the backrest and moved towards the audience. I dramatically turned to continue singing and took a few steps forward with my hands on my thighs. 

**_An old gypsy lady, she gave me the advice_**   
**_"There's no turning back", she said, "so you got to think twice"_**   
**_Don't know if it's right, but sure it ain't feel wrong_**   
**_And baby, I gotta say that it's just too strong_**

I turned the chair in one movement and sat with my legs open facing the audience. 

**_"He'll be cursed and tormented, chased by demons and ghosts!"_**   
**_The only thing that I replied was "Oh, at any cost!"_**

I jumped up with my tail up and danced sensually again.

**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

**_A gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

My steps were safe and provocative. I took off my hat and started fiddling with it between my fingers. I started dancing with everything I had. All my anger was translated into sensual movements. As I would not have dared to do as Charlotte. I lowered provocatively, moving my hips and flexing my knees. With my hands going over my shoulders, my breasts, my belly and my thighs. I got back to my feet, doing the same. 

I was dancing to him. Exploiting all the potential that I had in store. I felt like I was condemning him with the gypsy curse, with my dance. The curse of an unhappy life with his future wife. 

I made the exaggerated and playful mimicry of talking to an invisible man, for the next stanza. 

**_You are in big trouble now boy and listen to this_**   
**_The ritual was sealed with my last kiss_**   
**_Run if you want, you can't go really far_**   
**_Maybe struck by a lightening or get hit by a car_**

**_I've made my decisions since you made me feel blue_**   
**_Now an old gypsy lady's curse, honey, is on you_**

I left everything I had on stage. I moved with grace and passion. With my hands on my hips, as I moved them. I wandered all over the place singing the final choruses. 

**_Oh, Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

**_A gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

**_A gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

**_A gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_**   
**_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you_**

I ended up pointing forward, accusingly and brutally, with the bowler hat in the middle of my face. I was breathing hard and the sweat on my forehead reminded me of the physical effort I had made when dancing with such power. I looked at the cast girls, who applauded me with reservations. I bowed and dared to look at Alastor one last time before turning fully. I knew him well enough to know that he liked what he saw in me. 

_Are you okay? ’Vaggie said to me, once I got backstage._

_‘Yes. I'll just go for a walk. I have to clear my mind.' I said with a half-smile._

_‘Are you sure you don't need help?’ She insisted._

_‘Calm down, I'll be fine. I'll get to the apartment before dinner.' I assured her._

_‘You drove him crazy, doll.’ I heard someone say behind me._

It was Angel who was smiling at me with satisfaction. I looked at him in silence and frowning. I looked down and snorted. 

_‘If he doesn't fall for Le Ange Blanc, he won't fall for anyone. I taught you well. You took out that beast that you had trapped inside you._ ’ He concluded winking at me _._

_‘Angel leave her alone.'_ Vaggie chided _._

_'I'm just congratulating my young pupil.'_ he said haughtily _._

_‘Also, what are you doing here? You can go home now._ ’ 

Angel rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

_‘Can you calm down? I just came to deliver the suit that she has to fix for her act. It is too simple for my taste. I keep insisting that you should show more skin._ ' Said Angel, annoyed. 

He gave me a bag with a white cloth inside. 

_‘I'll see what I can do with this.' said, without spirit._

_‘I still can't figure out why you don't want to wear the red dress._

_‘I just don't want to use it and that's it.’ I said bluntly_.

That dress brought back too many memories of the last night I had lived with him. I put on my coat and took my wallet, along with the bag. 

_‘A waste but is your choice.'_ Angel said, lifting his shoulders, nonchalantly. 

_‘See you later.' I said, with a half-smile_. 

And without waiting for an answer, I left, quickly. 

I went out onto the busy street on a Saturday. I walked past people looking at the clothing stores, some cheerfully chattering about the latest movie from the cinema, others begging for coins in an alley. I continued without really looking where I was going. The fresh air should have helped distract my rowdy thoughts, but that lunch between Alastor and Mimzy was the only thing going over and over in my head. 

Why couldn't I just make myself feel happy for him? It was the most mature option on my part. Keep the good memories and let him get on with his life. Go ahead and worry about my own affairs. He had decided to propose something formal to her and not to me. He will have his reasons. I always wanted to see him happy. So, this should be fine. 

I slowed down and massaged my eyes in frustration. The tears stung me, but I endured them. 

I couldn't keep fooling myself. I wasn´t satisfied seeing them together because he didn´t look happy. I didn´t feel calm seeing them together. Chatting together. Sharing together. Biting my tongue every time I saw something I didn't like. Every selfish comment from Mimzy and every awkward nod from Alastor. 

The sound of a little bell and a familiar voice startled me from my ramblings. 

_‘Thanks, come back soon. Don't forget to recommend Rosie's Boutique to your friends.’_

It was Rosie. She was saying goodbye to a pompous woman laden with bags from the clothing store. I saw her about to go back inside her boutique.

_‘Miss Rosie.’_ I said without thinking. 

She turned and smiled at me as she recognized me. 

_‘Charlotte, my dear! What a pleasure to see you here!_ ’ She said, approaching me. 

_‘Nice to see you too. It's been a while since the last time we saw each other.'_ I said. 

_'Oh yeah. I haven't heard from you since Alastor suddenly arrived with that maddening woman at my store_. 'She said, annoyed. 

I looked down sadly. 

_‘I guess things have changed a lot in the last time.’_ She said. 

I huffed and looked at her. 

_‘They... came to see their wedding dresses, right?' I said, pretending nonchalance_. 

_‘At least she did. Alastor said nothing to me regarding his suit.'_ _She replied, with an air of annoyance._

_‘Oh.’_

I couldn't think of anything more interesting to say. Rosie looked at me for a few moments and sighed in annoyance. She put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a friendly smile. 

_‘Darling, do you want to have a coffee with me?_ ’ She said. _‘It’s time for my mid-afternoon coffee and I think we need to catch up.’_

I looked at her in surprise. 

‘ _Oh, but I don't want to bother you. '_ I said _._

_'Do not worry about it. This is a low flow hour. Also, I have some delicious vanilla rolls that a client brought me. You don't want me to eat them alone, do you? '_

_'Ahm ...'_ I tried to say _._

But she took me by the shoulders and happily directed me to her place. 

_'Good company and an interesting chat are appreciated when having a coffee._ ’ She said fluently _._

I huffed with resignation but accepted her invitation. We went to her store and she turned the sign on the door, from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. 

_‘Make yourself comfortable, sweetie, I will bring things to the table.'_ She said.

I took off my coat and put my wallet and paper bag next to the coat rack. I placed myself on one of the sofas intended for those who accompanied customers and sighed. It had been weeks since I had visited Rosie's place. I felt really ungrateful not having gone to see her all those days, even though I had time to do it. 

Rosie returned quickly with a tray of hot muffins and two cups. She placed the tray on the coffee table and smiled. 

_‘You still prefer coffee, don't you?_ ' She said, as she showed me a can of instant coffee. 

I nodded and put a few tablespoons into my mug. She remained silent as she watched me add my sugar cubes. 

‘ _The kettle is on. I put in enough water for several rounds._ ’ She said, glancing at me.

I said nothing. My hands were closed on my skirt. She sat on the other sofa and sighed, with resignation. 

_‘Oh dear, I really wanted to talk to you._ ' She said, resting her head on her hand. 

She lazily put a few sugar cubes in her cup. 

‘ _At least with you I can have a decent dialogue. That idiot Alastor never gives me clear answers._ ' She added.

_‘He never gives them.’_ I said, neutral. 

She watched me for a few moments, thoughtful. 

_‘I guess you don't work for him anymore._ ' she said.

_'I quit.'_

_‘It was the wisest thing. I guess you won't live with him either.’_

I nodded. 

_‘I'm at a friend's house at the moment.’_

_‘And where do you work now?’_

_‘Singing at Mimzy’s Palace. Making replacement during the Mardi gras ’season.'_

_'Do you work for that noisy woman?'_ She said, surprised.

I nodded regretfully.

_‘As a customer I was already quite unfriendly. I don't want to think about how she would be like your boss._ ’ She added, opening her eyes wide. 

Rosie put a few tablespoons of coffee in her cup. 

_‘I guess you already have a stage name, like every show girl, right?’_

_‘My friend Angel Dust named me ‘Ange blanc.' I_ said, embarrassed.

_‘Quite appropriate for you, little angel.’_

She smiled and then sighed.

_‘I think Alastor's house will no longer be the same when he marries that whimsical woman. 'She said, annoyed ‘You kept everything in perfect order at all times. And she doesn't seem like the most organized person in the world when it comes to grooming.’_

_‘She has a very good maid in her place. Maybe she will ask her to clean up her house too.'_ I said, disinterestedly.

She winced. 

_‘I don't even want to imagine what it would be like to put up with her every day as your boss at home and, also, in the club where you sing. You did well to run away from there.'_

_‘She herself never liked me.’ I admitted. ‘She didn't like Mr. Alastor taking so much attention to me ...’_

_‘Oh, love rivalries are so hilarious. Especially when one has the obvious advantage over the other.'_

I was silent. I looked closely at my feet, avoiding raising my eyes. I wanted to change the subject. 

_‘Miss Rosie, you ... did you know before that Mr. Alastor was my father's taxidermist?’_. 

_“Mh?_ _Oh, yes of course!’ s_ he said calmly. 

_‘For real?’_ I said stunned. 

_‘It was obvious, my girl. Apple Daddy always looked for the best to maintain their most precious possessions. Not for nothing did he entrust his wardrobe and hats to me.’_

She laughed confidently. 

_‘Also, it was I myself who recommended Alastor to repair a bunch of stuffed figures that fell off the walls and ended up being badly damaged. Although he didn't know how to explain how they all fell at the same time._ ’She said thoughtfully. 

I blinked in surprise. 

_'I see, you were the one who recommended him to Dad. I guess it makes sense.' I said._

_'Alastor has been around in my life since I was a boy who cleaned boots on the street.'_ She said, wistfully ' _He learned to dress and talk by watching the businessmen who worked at the bank near here. Once He cleaned Franklin's boots and I saw that he had a stuffed squirrel. He was very good at sewing and I offered to buy him that figure, which he gladly agreed to. I started to see him often. I thought it was funny that he always smiled. He worked after He went to school and did his homework while waiting for a client. He was very ambitious, and I would give him bread or fruit whenever I found him. But he almost always kept it and took it to his mother. He has always been skinny because of it. He would run errands for me and earn a few pennies.'_

She chuckled.

Somehow, I was interested in learning about Alastor's past. The years that came after her mother murdered his father must have been terrible financially speaking. That he had to work after school was a clear sign of that. 

_‘I suppose you helped him perfect his way of sewing.'_ I said.

_‘He was always very self-taught. He told me that his mother taught him how to treat fur, but he was especially interested in keeping intact the bodies of those animals he hunted. I started to invite him to eat something in the afternoons on Fridays and I taught him to sew in other ways, so that the seam would not show when making his stuffed animals. He learned fast. He dreamed of dressing elegantly and being respected by his peers. He's always been very smart, but quite awkward when it comes to emotions. But I never doubted that he loved his mom very much. And when she passed away, he came to see me. He only gave me the news of his death and he didn't stop smiling, no matter how hard it was. But he was silent for days.’_

She stroked the rim of her mug. 

_‘And over the years we continue to be friends. We share a lot of history.’_

_‘I see.’_ I said. 

We didn't say anything else for a few moments. Her attempt to make the conversation more enjoyable reached a point where she began to say things more directly. 

_‘You guys haven't talked much, have you? '_

_'He has tried to get close to me since I left his house a week ago, but I always reject him.' I said, monotonously._

_'I see.’_

She sighed heavily. 

_‘He didn't say anything to you, either. ' She said, suddenly._

My silence and my frown spoke for me. 

_‘I suppose it happened as I suspected._ 'She deduced. 

She knew what we were talking about. It was the only topic we could have addressed and which we were both eager to discuss: Alastor's engagement. 

_‘Without a doubt, that was a hasty decision made by my dear friend. Don't you think?'_ She said, straightening up in her seat. 

If I had known that Rosie was the gossip type, I would not have accepted her invitation to lunch. But frankly, I needed to talk to someone about everything that was going on. And neither Vaggie nor Angel could give me a more accurate vision without falling into prejudice. They didn't know Alastor like Rosie or like me. 

I sighed with resignation. 

‘ _He only came late one night and told me that he was engaged in marriage.'_ I said quietly. _'His decisions have always been one-sided. Nobody but him chooses what to do, according to what suits him.’_

_'He is usually quite mean with his wishes.'_

_‘That's something that didn't bother me. But when the news suddenly came ..._ ' I said. 

I sighed in frustration and massaged my temples. Rosie looked at me curiously. 

_‘She doesn't seem like a good match for him.'_ She asked.

I twitched my face and bit my lip. 

_‘She has money, owns a club and is beautiful. He is a charismatic and elegant radio host. Don't you think they would be an enviable marriage? '_ She said, maliciously.

_‘It's just that ..._ ’ I said in frustration _‘I look at them and try to feel happy for him, but I can't. Not with her. Miss Mimzy pays too much attention to her whims and doesn't even look at Mr. Alastor's needs. She does not respect the schedules that he has, nor his tastes or customs. As if quitting being a spinster was her priority and she had become infatuated with Mr. Alastor's appearance. But not the real one that takes years to know.’_

Without realizing it, I had stood up and started walking around the room like a caged lion. 

_'I observed them at lunch today. The truth is I've seen them all these days chatting and laughing. But today something didn't make sense to me. She acted like a cheesy romance novel woman: waiting for an instant and perfect coexistence just for being a couple._ _Something idyllic and absurd, like a fairy tale with a 'happily ever after' without even thinking that life continues, after throwing the bouquet in the air and the carriage leaves towards sunset. Everyday problems will inevitably arise! But with dialogue they could reach good agreements. But she seems to impose her point of view, over what he wants. Complicity between the two is supposed to be natural! In a real couple, although there are differences, the similarities should be greater. They do not complement each other. She seems to be trying to subdue Mr. Alastor, denying him things that are natural to him. Why did he insist so much on trying to give him cake if he doesn't like sweets?!'_

_'A stable couple should project the happiness of loving each other. It should be clear without explanation! Who the fuck has to explain to me that the two of them love each other madly if it doesn't show? She loves the idea of getting married more than being with him! That fullness is supposed to be felt if they plan to share their lives and there are no doubts about it, or am I wrong?'_

I stopped in my chatter to get air. My breathing was shaky. I felt like I had uncovered a pressure cooker. I ran my hands over my eyes and held back my tears of frustration. 

_‘_ _I'm sorry, I...’_ I tried to say. 

_‘Don´t worry, let it out. It´s healthy for the soul.'_ she said sympathetically.

I lowered my head and sat on the sofa again.

_"As I thought, it doesn't make sense to you that he suddenly wanted to marry her."_ she said.

_‘No one understands it, neither do I.’_ I said, sad. 

She looked at me for a moment, before speaking.

_‘You two ... were very close, or am I wrong?'_ She said. 

I took a breath and tried to sound calm. 

_‘Nothing concrete. 'I said_. 

She looked at me in silence, waiting for me to continue. I huffed and started playing with my thumbs. 

_‘He never told me about some kind of stable relationship.'_ I said sadly.

_‘Excuse the indiscreet question, but you “slept” together, right?’_ She said seriously. 

I looked at her scandalized. 

_‘How did you know that ...?!' I_ said, putting my hands on my cheeks.

She raised a hand. 

_‘Calm down, Charlotte.'_ She said with a contained laugh. 

I covered my face in shame and leaned forward, wishing the earth would swallow me. 

_‘Tell me he didn't tell you, please.'_ I said, my voice muffled, by my hands.

_‘Oh, he wouldn't tell me something like that. He's selfish about his private life.' '_ She said, annoyed. 

I uncovered my face a little and looked up, uncomfortable.

_‘It is evident when a man and a woman are satisfied in bed._ ' She explained _‘It is as if her eyes and hair shine brighter. The energy you transmit vibrates with happiness and the body language between you spoke volumes. You guys looked like a couple of lovebirds on your honeymoon, if you know what I mean.’_

I covered my face again, horrified.

Was it really so evident when a couple had been intimate? Had we really been that obvious?

_‘Or am I wrong?_ ’ She said, insidious. 

I straightened up in my seat, inhaling deeply. Her assertions indicated to me that she knew it, or at least intuited it. There is no use trying to deny it. 

_‘Only in the last days ...'_ I said, looking at my hands. 

It was not necessary to say more. My intense blush and nervousness spoke for itself. Rosie laughed. 

_‘You guys were already late, then!'_ She exclaimed, laughing.

The sound of the boiling kettle made Rosie stand up and head to the kitchen. She came back immediately and started pouring the water into the cups, gracefully. 

_'What really amazes me that he dared to take that big step with you, knowing how surly he is.’_

I cringed in my seat, embarrassed. She sat down and took her cup. She began to rummage through the contents, thoughtfully. 

_‘But the truth is that I saw it coming, the fact that you two would soon arrive at another type of relationship. Far above the cordiality between boss and employee.'_ She said.

I looked at her, confused.

‘ _Geez! I have seen married couples for years that do not compare half of the compatibility that the two of you had! "_ She exclaimed, almost exasperated. _" I am sure that more than one person has mistaken you for a married couple, or am I wrong?’_

I took my cup and started stirring the coffee with the spoon. 

_‘Mh ... Truth is that you are not the first person to reach that conclusion ...'_ I said, upset. 

Rosie took one of the muffins from the basket and played with it between her fingers. 

_‘Dear girl, your ways of treating each other were as clear to a mature woman as I am. A couple that complements each other well is like a breeze of fresh air in a sea of engagement for interest._ ’She said, proudly. 

I pursed my lips. 

_‘But it doesn't matter, Miss Rosie.’ I_ replied. _‘He is going to marry Miss Mimzy.’_

_‘That idiot ...’_ She muttered. 

Miss Rosie always treated Alastor as if he were her younger brother. A younger brother who used to give her headaches for his occurrences.

_'_ _I guess he must be really confused...'_ she said thoughtfully. 

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye.

_‘Don't get me wrong. I think the decision he made is a sovereign nonsense. And that poor ability to self-analyze is no justification for what he did.'_

I looked at my hands again. 

_‘Was she the one who chose you as your dressmaker? I doubt he would suggest you as an option, knowing how you would take the news.'_ I said, cautiously.

_"It seemed like she dragged him here."_ She said sarcastically. _"It's always the brides who are eager for their dresses, but I've never had such a difficult client and such an uncooperative groom."_

_‘I see ...’_ I said. 

Rosie took a sip of her coffee and rattled the cup on the plate. 

_‘And what do you plan to do?’_ She said, seriously.

_'With what?'_

_"Well, with the engagement!"_ She said, horrified.

_‘Miss Rosie, I can't do anything with that engagement.’_ I replied, annoyed _‘He decided to get married. He wants to be with her, I can't ask him not to marry.’_

_‘And has he tried to talk to you?’_ She said.

_‘Several times he tried to get closer, but I'm not going to talk to him.’_ I said, crossing my arms.

_‘I see, I think I can understand things better, dear.'_ She said calmly. 

She placed a hand on her face, dramatically and sighed, with resignation. 

_‘So, all those murders were in vain?’_ She said.

I almost choked on coffee. I put the cup awkwardly on the table, while still coughing. 

_‘Is everything all right, sweetheart?’_ She said calmly. 

Finally, I was able to clear my throat. My whole body shook with violence. I quickly looked at her in terror and stood up. Had I heard well? Did Miss Rosie know ...?

She was watching me, triumphantly.

_‘The vigilante is overworking, trying to get the attention of a certain young woman. And that stubborn girl doesn't want to listen. What a waste, my friend's energy.'_ She said, with a knowing smile. 

I didn´t know what to say. The colors had faded from my face. It couldn't be true! I quickly reviewed myself. There was no way I would have given her any hints earlier in our conversations. The spell of the pact I made with Alastor prevented me from revealing the identity of The Vigilante. So how could it be? 

_‘You...? You knew ...? '_ I barely said.

She gave a slight laugh and drank a little more coffee. 

_'What? If I knew that Alastor is The Vigilante? Well, yes.’_ She said, calmly.

My jaw dropped, from shock. I had to sit down again. 

_‘And how did you find out ...? Did he tell you ...? ’_ I said, putting my hands on my mouth. 

She huffed. 

_‘No, he wouldn't tell me. I took out my deductions on my own.’_

_"How did you do it?'_ I said, with admiration and fear.

_'It wasn´t difficult. I only had to see one of his victims to suspect him.'_ she said. 

I looked at her confused. 

‘ _That you knew it just by looking at one of the bodies.'_ I said.

_‘It was about three months ago,’ she calmly explained ‘I was going to do some shopping and I heard an uproar from a group of people. They had found a dead man in an alley. But not just any dead. He was a victim of The Vigilante. His stitched mouth made me realize it was him. And I had a chance to look at it closely, before the police came to get us all out of the place.’_

She filled her cup again with hot water and made another coffee. I looked mesmerized by her delicate movements. 

_‘I still can't figure out how he did it._ ’She said, thoughtfully _‘ But I know he wields black magic, so it's best not to ask sometimes_.’ 

She was speaking so calmly about the subject that it was disturbing. 

_‘I know how Alastor works as a taxidermist since he was a young man. I know what his stitches look like perfectly. I myself taught him how to make a special knot that I invented, to make sure that, when he finishes sewing, the seam does not open. And that same knot was the one I saw in that man's mouth.’_

There was a moment of silence between us. Only the clink of her cup being stirred was heard in the room. 

_‘And that he told you about it makes me understand that you knew it too, right? "_ She said, more animated. 

I was still very stunned. 

_‘D-did you also have to make an oath?’_

She drank from her coffee and sighed. 

_'Alastor made me make that stupid oath of silence when he found out that I knew it. He told me that I could never reveal his identity to anyone. The spell would prevent it. But I figured that if someone else already knew the same secret, I could talk about it freely, right?'_

She gave me a big smile. Miss Rosie was an extremely intelligent woman, no doubt. But terrifying in equal parts. For a moment I feared that she might draw more guesses from just observation. 

_‘There was no need for that spell. After the favor he did me I couldn't have turned him over to the police.'_

Something clicked in my head. 

_‘He spoke to me once that he did you a great favor a while ago ...'_ I said, awkwardly _'And that's why you gave us a suit and dress for me.'_

_'Oh yeah. Suspecting that Alastor was the vigilante gave me a great idea. And it was the answer to all my problems.'_ She said, with a dreamy air. _'I made some small adjustments to a plan that I had been thinking about for a long time …'_

I looked at her, impatiently.

_‘And I killed Franklin.'_ She said smiling as she bit a bagel. 

That was too shocking for my stunned head. I covered my mouth with my hands, surprised. Had the elegant Miss Rosie killed her husband by herself? 

_‘It was you...? Really? ’_ I said, barely.

_‘It was pretty simple.’_ She said, quietly. _‘A dose of opium in his whiskey and I was able to stab him calmly once he fell asleep. Although I would have liked to hear his screams of pain.’_

She sighed. 

_‘Though I have to admit that if I didn't have that option, I would have killed myself. 'She said sadly. Women have no way to escape a marriage even if they are abused. The pact was: until death do us part. And I had to fulfill that promise with blows and tears.’_

She paused before continuing. 

_‘But if death was taking so long to take him away, I would make things easier for her.’_

She looked at me, sympathetically. 

_‘Desperate measures, for desperate situations.’_

The calmness with which she spoke of her husband's death and how she thought about suicide, reminded me of Alastor's words weeks ago, while we were discussing about marriage. 

**_“Rosie has things she cares about in life and Franklin was definitely not one of them.”_**

Back then, it was still difficult for me to understand how a couple could be together in a marriage without love. How far away that reasoning seemed to me from just a few weeks ago. Rosie was confirming to me that she preferred to end her life, before having to continue living with him. 

I sighed feeling my chest tight. Recovering from the initial impression, I was able to speak more calmly. 

_‘_ _I´m so sorry. I can't imagine what you had to go through for years to make such a decision.'_ I said, lowering my head. _' Mr. Alastor told me about how Franklin treated you._ ’ 

She smiled bitterly. 

_‘Franklin made his life worth less to me than that of a mangy dog.'_ She said, looking at her mug. ' _And mine was more valuable.’_

I leaned towards her. 

_‘Of course, yes. Your loss would have been a great pain to all of us who appreciate you.'_ I said, confidently.

She gave me a smile, tenderly. 

_‘Thank you very much, my sweet girl. '_ she said. 

I frowned. 

_‘But, to be honest, I believed that Mr. Alastor had killed him._ ' I replied, upset.

_‘I don't doubt that he wanted to do it.’_ she said, downplaying the matter _‘But I had confided to him from before that one of my dreams was to end Franklin's life with my own hands. I just needed courage and a good plan.’_

She rested her face in her hand and examined her mug, before speaking. 

_‘After sleeping and stabbing him, I had a big problem with the evidence. Everything had been stained with blood. So, I changed my clothes and went to see him on the radio station and wait for him until he got off work. Once we met, I didn't need to tell him, I just said: I did it. He understood immediately and offered me his help with the corpse.’_

She huffed, at the memory. 

_‘I asked him to pass off Franklin's death as a murder carried out by The Vigilante. He sewed Franklin's mouth, took his heart, and I asked him to remove his liver. I wanted to eat it.’_

I shuddered at the idea.

_‘I never knew how he managed to clean up all the blood while I hid the liver in the fridge. Then I helped him transport the sack that contained his body during the night, and we left him to his fate. The next day people found him and settled for blaming The Vigilante. It was the perfect crime!’_

Half of my coffee was already cold. I stared at Miss Rosie with my mouth open for a few moments, before closing it. 

_'Did you tell him then that you knew he was the New Orleans killer?'_ I said, quietly.

_‘I tried to confess it with caution, and I indicated that I had no intention of betraying him. But anyway, I made sure he didn't have his knife on hand when I did it.'_ She said, with a mischievous laugh.

_"I know he thought you were trustworthy."_ I said.

_‘But he still told me that he couldn't risk that it could happen. Make that strange oath of silence or kill me. It offended me that he thought I could betray him after maintaining our friendship for years. But you see how suspicious of people he can be.’_

I made a gesture of disgust. 

_'Yes, he also said he couldn't take a chance on me.'_ I said, smiling.

_'This is how our beloved Alastor is.'_ She said. _'If he prefers us to live with an oath instead of killing us, it´s his way of telling us that he appreciates us.’_

I cocked my head, confused. 

_'Why are you telling me all this? '_ I said _'I can perfectly take this as a confession and report it to the police.'_

_'Would you really do it?'_ she said raising an eyebrow. 

I huffed in annoyance and smiled at her. 

_'Of course not, Miss Rosie.'_ I said _'But I mean why do you tell me something so intimate?'_

_'Oh, you are completely trustworthy, darling.'_ she said, putting her cup on the table _'If you are able to continue loving a man as paranoid as he is and even knowing the number of murders he carries out, it is because you are trustworthy. You're not alive for nothing.'_

_'Uhm ... do you usually eat people?'_ I said cautiously.

_"When you go through several periods of hunger in your childhood, you take pleasure in what you have on hand. Basically, cannibalism was normal in my time. It was eating or dying.'_

_'And Mr. Alastor ...?'_ I try to say.

_'No, no, no, he doesn't like human flesh. I invited Alastor to eat Franklin's liver, but he told me that he was limited to deer meat only. He ruthlessly kills criminals, but he is not able to eat all that fresh meat. How wasteful. It tastes like pork, by the way.'_

_'Ah ...' I_ said, feigning a smile. 

She laughed. 

_'Oh don´t worry! I'm not going to eat you.'_ she said, graciously. _' You're the daughter of Apple daddy and I like you too much to try to do something against you. Also, I'm sure Alastor would kill me on the spot.'_

And she laughed again, elegantly covering her mouth with her hand. 

I knew it was disturbing, but she is Rosie, I couldn't be afraid of her. I had fallen in love with a murderer and my friend was a cannibal. I myself was a girl revived with black magic. Something really must be wrong with me so that it wouldn't affect me that people had been killed for my sake. But frankly, I had already gotten used to being surrounded by people who had some connection to death or the occult. 

I gave a slight laugh. 

_'Do you feel a little better? '_ she said. 

_'_ _I really don't feel like I solved anything, but it did me good to talk to you.'_ I admitted.

I frowned and looked at her. 

_'You know why he kills so many people constantly ... right?'_ I said cautiously.

_'Oh, he didn't give me details. But he said something related to that if he murdered criminals, you would not die. Is that so?'_ she said. 

I nodded.

_'He really seems to enjoy that activity.' she said, graciously._

She looked at me, curiously. 

_'If he wanted to be noticed, he is succeeding. Everyone's been talking about The Vigilante lately.'_ she said _'And I think I was right to think that this tantrum is because you haven't spoken to him in many days and he wants your attention'._

I nodded again, biting my lower lip. 

_'He is so unsubtle when he wants something. It would be all so easy if he could be honest for once.'_ She said, rolling her eyes. 

_'But I don't want to talk to him. 'I said bluntly' Not after knowing that he wants my attention and also without breaking the engagement. I will not accept being his lover, if that is what he wants.'_ I said with conviction. 

_'Do you really think he would ask you to be his lover? '_ she said incredulously. 

_'_ _What else would he be asking for? He hasn't even broken his engagement to make me think he wants something serious with me.'_ I replied, annoyed. 

She sighed with resignation. 

_'Oh, truth is I don't think he himself knows what he wants.'_ she said. 

I invited her to continue with my gaze. 

_'Alastor adores you, no doubt. But (and I'm only assuming) he's so confused by everything he's feeling, he doesn't know how to tell you to your face that he wants to go back to what you two had before. He's already involved in all this, and I don't think he wants to accept that he was wrong. He can be very stubborn trying to prove himself right ... although he obviously made one of the worst mistakes of his life.’_

I exhaled heavily. 

_‘And what do you suggest I do? Forgive him? '_ I said, defensively.

_‘Oh, that depends on you, honey.’ She said, “You will feel if he deserves the love and company that he so yearns for you to give him, after all the nonsense he did.’_

I ran my fingers over my eyes. 

_'At the moment I have to think about my performance. I have to fix the suit they gave me.'_ I said, pointing to the brown bag at the entrance. 

She stood up and walked towards it. From the bag she took out the wide white feather suit Angel had asked me to fix.

_'Is this a Halloween costume?'_ She said, grimacing.

_‘'No. It's my costume for tomorrow's show.'_ I said, embarrassed. 

_‘With this ugly thing ...?!’_ She exclaimed. 

She took the fabric between her fingers and looked at it in disgust. She inhaled deeply, arming herself with patience. Then, her gaze lit up, as if she had a vision. 

‘ _Could it be…’_ she whispered. 

She turned to close the curtains and turned to look at me, haughtily.

_‘I will ask you again: will you do something about the engagement? '_ She said in a hard voice. 

I huffed and opened up to her. 

_'I want to be with him. But I'm still too angry.'_

I looked at her with determination.

_‘If I'm going to give him a chance to be together, first I want to make it clear to him that he can't do something as stupid as wanting to take me away from himself out of fear, again. And that won't be until he's completely honest with me.'_ I said, seriously. 

Rosie smiled, proudly. 

‘ _Honey, if you want to make that man drool even more for you, you will need something that makes you look completely stunning. It must hurt even more the fact of having changed you for another. Seeing you shine like an angel on stage.’_ She said, clenching a fist and narrowing her eyes, maliciously. 

_'Ahm ..._ _What are you suggesting?’_ I said, uncomfortable.

_‘You just let Rosie take care of everything.'_ she said, looking at her nails. _" But now I need to take some measures.’_

Without asking my permission, she took a tape measure out of her pocket and measured me complete. She was never clear in her ramblings, she only focused on writing in her notebook. 

_‘Feathers, yes, and sequins around here ...'_ she said. 

After long minutes of standing, Rosie was satisfied and smiled at me. 

_'Oh, how inspiring this has been!”'She exclaimed. 'Come over for your suit tomorrow noon.'_

_‘What? But you don´t have to...'_ I said, confused. 

_“Oh, Charlote, please!’_ she said, excitedly. _'Let me help you with this! I'm dying to know that Alastor goes crazy after seeing you using this and tries to get close to you just to be rejected by you again!'_

She gave an excited laugh, clutching her stomach with her arms. I looked at her impressed. Apparently, she also adored the idea of Alastor suffering for his actions. I couldn't help but laugh too. 

She kissed me maternally on the forehead and took me by the shoulders. 

_‘That idiot will pay for how he has made you feel and how he has screwed up my conclusion of how everything should have ended. And he doesn't deserve to be forgiven until he honestly shows what he expects of you. You are worth more than you think my beautiful girl, and he will have to understand that he cannot do what he wants all the time, not without paying the consequences.’_

I smiled at her, sincerely. 

_‘Thank you, Miss Rosie.'_ I said.

_‘Just Rosie, my dear.’ s_ he said, waving a hand.

I said goodbye to her and went to Vaggie's house a little calmer after that long conversation. Vaggie was waiting for me with dinner ready and I didn't tell her in detail what I'd talked about with Rosie. I preferred to leave some things to myself. Especially for her. Every time I mentioned Alastor she seemed to make her hair stand on end. 

That night I was able to sleep without nightmares or voices. 

The next day I went back to Rosie's place. I was surprised to see that the closed sign was on the door. I knocked on the door rhythmically. 

_‘Rosie ?_ _You here?’_ I said. 

A few moments later, the door was opened for me. Rosie was there, in the same dress from the day before and with a pale, haggard face. 

_‘Charlotte, dear! You arrived just in time!’_ she exclaimed. 

_‘Are you Ok?’_ I said worried. 

_‘Ok? Oh, I´m always ok!’_ she said in a louder voice than usual, as she pushed me into her store _‘I must thank Alastor for recommending me the coffee. What a wonderful drink that scares the desire to sleep!”_

His dark circles and slightly disheveled hair were a clear indication that she hadn´t slept in a long time. 

_‘Did you work all night? ’_ I said, horrified. 

_‘I haven't stopped since you left! I didn't feel so inspired in a long time! But I'm proud of the result!’_

She placed me in the center of her store, in front of a woman's mannequin covered with a blanket. She took the cloth and unveiled her work with pride. 

_‘¡TA DAH!’_ She exclaimed. 

My jaw dropped instantly. It was the suit from the day before, or rather, an infinitely improved version. She had adjusted it to the body. It had feathers on the edge of the chest and the groin line. Long gloves that ended in feathers. And a stunning white veil that fell from the hips. Everything completely shiny and dazzling. Beautiful white high-heeled shoes with glitter were at the feet of the mannequin. But above all, the mannequin had a white hat, with a deer antler headdress on it. 

_‘What do you think?'_ She said enthusiastically. 

_‘Is...! It is magnificent!'_ I said, unable to contain the emotion ' _I_ _t looks like the costume of a professional Broadway actress! You really are fantastic Rosie!’_

_‘Oh, I know.’_ She said with pride. 

I surrounded the mannequin with a reverent air. I looked at it in detail. It was wonderful. But then I noticed the back. 

_'My back will be seen ...'_ I said, waning my smile _'I’ve been preventing people from seeing my scars.'_

_‘An angel that has fallen must have its marks.'_ She said graciously

I gave her a half smile. 

_‘I guess they can be used as advertising._ 'I said, lifting my shoulders. 

I looked at the antler headdress in the hat. 

_'Not very subtle, but I think it looks good. At least he will understand.'_ She said, thoughtfully. 

_‘The hat is very similar to Dad's.'_ I said, with a sad smile. 

_‘You cannot be a complete Magne without your own white hat. Apple Daddy would have wanted her daughter to have her own.’_

I took a few steps back and looked at it again from head to toe.

_‘It's really beautiful.’ I said_. 

I took my bag and opened it. 

_‘How much do I owe you?’_ I said. 

_‘Oh, my price is not in money this time.'_ she said, waving a hand. 

_‘Sorry, I can't give you an arm for dinner.'_ I said, raising an eyebrow, amused. 

Rosie laughed. I was glad to see her enthusiastic, even though her face showed her tiredness. Once she finished laughing, she looked me in the eyes and her face hardened. 

_‘No sweetie. It is much simpler than you think. I want you to promise me something.'_ She said, more seriously. 

_‘Sure.’_ I said. 

_‘Promise me that once this is over, and you two get back together, you will come and tell me everything that happened in detail. I want to know how this mess is solved.’_

I looked at her in surprise. 

_‘Okay? ’_ She said, cocking her head. 

_‘Ok, I promise.’_ I said, smiling.

I stood there thinking for a moment. 

_‘But ... How are you so sure that he will choose me?'_ I said, unsure. 

_‘Alastor wouldn't try so hard to accomplish nothing, dear. I'm sure that somehow, it moves you that he takes so much trouble to let you know about him.'_ She said haughtily. 

I smiled. She took it as an affirmation. 

_‘I just hope you're sure of what you want, Charlotte.'_ She said, solemnly.

_‘I'm sure.’_ I said, firmly.

She smiled. 

_‘Everyone is talking about The Vigilante. But soon, The Ange Blanc will be on the news too.'_ She said with conviction. _‘You will take the weight of my words after your debut. But I can already see how everyone is going to talk about you, my dear child.”_

I laughed, nervously. 

_‘I will do my best, I promise.'_ I said. 

_‘You won't know when Alastor comes to see you, since he spends his nights killing people. But he will need a break sometime. Especially, as soon as he finds out who the Ange blanc is. You will be the brightest star in that place.'_ she said excitedly.

She took a long inhalation and sighed. She winked at me knowingly.

_"A star that will shine to dazzle him."_ She added, suggestively. 

I laughed again. I approached the mannequin, removed the hat, and put it on. I looked in the mirror and I liked what I saw. 

_‘Don't worry, Rosie. He won't know what hit him.'_ I said decisively. 

I sincerely thanked her and said goodbye to her, promising to return soon. 

The days that came were chaotic and exciting. Almost like a premonition, my popularity started to grow like a foam once I started performing on shows. The fans began to arrive with gifts and direct proposals, after my performances. Some were quite insistent and were violently withdrawn. Angel seemed to feel completely proud of everything I had learned from him, I was applying it in my performances. Also he congratulated me for daring to show more skin. 

Being the Ange blanc gave me security and power. I could seduce with my voice and my movements whoever listened to me. I knew it. It didn't matter if he was male or female. They all ended at my feet. The cheers spoke for themselves at the end of each show. With glee I could see that Mimzy was receiving more customers and profits than usual thanks to me. She hated feeling dependent on me for financial abundance. Almost like childish revenge, Mimzy tried to speak aloud of her wedding preparations when I was around. But I couldn't care less. I knew she was afraid of me. Because even though she was Alastor's fiancée, I knew that he would soon notice what I had become. And I was completely satisfied to have grown up and demonstrate, without fear, who I was. 

Now I felt like I could show Alastor and the whole world who Charlotte Magne was on stage. It had come out of my cocoon lit by searchlights. 

No one could underestimate me anymore. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Charlotte, dear.” I heard someone next to me say. 

I came out of my ramblings and looked at my beloved Alastor next to me. 

“Everything ok?” he said amused. 

“Of course.” I said, smiling. 

“We arrived.” 

I looked forward. Mimzy’s Palace seemed absolutely crowded. Due to the hour, there were already some drunks in the entrance singing out of tune and people came and went with beads and masks of the Mardi gras. It was almost closing time. 

I closed my eyes for a moment. It was time for my last act. 

Alastor offered his arm to me gallantly. 

"Ready for your grand finale, my dear?" he said with a wink. 

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. I massaged my cheeks and then clenched my fists tightly. 

"Yes, let´s do this". I said with determination. 

I took his arm and we entered Mimzy's Palace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LINK DE LA MÚSICA! 
> 
> Gypsy curse - the speakeasies' swing band https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSZdV3X9OC8 
> 
> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Sígueme en Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


	17. The Fourth Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Play of powers

I felt good. Really good. Despite the physical exhaustion that it had brought me the last weeks, after the incessant killing of those putrid sinners, I felt on top of the world. With Charlotte holding my arm as we walked the cold dawn through the streets of New Orleans, I stood tall with my head held high like a king strolling through his domain. Because they really were. They were my domains. I had mimicked the wavering shadows of the alleys, and how much joy I got with each bloodshed. It had provided me a generous amount of bloodied bodies, which made me proud.

I was exhausted, and a slight pain stung my right shoulder unlike I hadn’t felt in the weeks prior, but at last I had reached the liberating sensation of giving my head a break. My sweet Charlotte was in charge of dispelling any discomfort or illness with the waves of pleasure that only she could give me, as she had in the previous hours.

I looked closely at her determined face. Her beautiful features were taut, a clear indication that she was focused on a thought that I didn't want to interrupt. Her subtle makeup and graceful way of walking were a delight to behold. Her countenance had changed since she had fully entered the show business. Finally, I could look at her face closely and without interruption, as I hadn’t done since our abrupt separation. I could finally look into those black eyes without being shy. She looked confident, strong, and painfully beautiful.

Our estranged weeks had dented us, the product of my hasty engagement. She was rising like the new revelation star of the city and I had sunk into the most pathetic darkness. Her radio and newspaper ads rivaled mine. There was no one who did not speak out loud about the magnificent Ange blanc and the ruthless anonymous hero, The Vigilante. Unsuspected by all, my actions were by and for her. No flowers, chocolates or invitations. My bloodbaths had my personal stamp, and were dedicated to that woman inaccessible to mortals, whom I had let go and desperately wanted to recover.

During my long vigils, I had not been able to witness with my own eyes the majestic act of Charlotte. Frankly, she deserved all the praise she received so generously. Just the night before, I had the Ange blanc looking haughty and unreachable, inviting me to a talk that I had been avoiding like the plague. And I had to accept. If sincerity was what she was asking for, I had to clarify that I was in love, and I revealed my soul to such a magnificent creature. Of that woman who had done nothing but throw my life as I knew it off balance, from the moment she came to my home as though a child. Naked and bloody. Unprotected and fragile. Now, she walked beside me with pride, as my equal.

That woman was all the award I could ask for. For the first time in my life I had yielded to my own standards, in order to keep her with me. I could have cheated, manipulated, or forced her to be with me, but it would be no more than a shadow of what I saw now. I didn't want to see her repressed ever again. I wanted to see her shine; nothing compared to her coming voluntarily, voraciously, and powerfully to envelop me with the force of her presence.

That is how I wanted it.

This is how I accepted it.

It was how I decided to make a deal with her.

Like someone who sells his soul to a demon in exchange for pity for his battered soul. A beautiful devil with red lips.

"Charlotte, my dear.” I said.

She came out of her thoughts and looked at me in surprise.

"Is everything alright?" I said, amused.

"Of course.” she said, smiling.

"We’ve arrived."

Mimzy's Palace stood in front of us, with its unmistakable neon sign and an unusual influx of attendees, which was only given for these times.

She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to be mentalizing. Finally she looked at me, determined.

I offered her my arm once again.

"Ready for your grand finale, my dear?" I said, winking.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. She massaged her cheeks and then clenched her fists tightly.

"Yeah come on.” she said with determination.

She took my arm and we entered Mimzy's Palace.

Passing through the threshold of the entrance, we felt immediately invaded by the revelry of the place. The thick cloud of cigarette smoke was ridiculously dense. The smell of tobacco and alcohol immediately stunned our senses. All accompanied by the deafening volume of music that was performed live inside the premises and, even steps from the street, resounded in the eardrums.

We tried to make our way through the audience, avoiding any occasion drunk lying on the ground. Clients who were lucid enough could recognize Charlotte as soon as they saw her. They muttered, excited, and tried to reach her as we barely set foot inside the premises. I felt Charlotte tense next to me, and she gripped my arm tightly.

"Hey! Isn't that the Ange Blanc?” I heard on one end.

"She's the great Ange Blanc!" someone answered him.

"Yes, she is! I'm going to ask for an autograph!” another man commented excitedly.

"Oh no. Let's go. Let's go.” Charlotte said urgently.

Before I could say anything, she tugged on my arm, and led me out of Mimzy's Palace. She ducked her head as far as she could and put her free hand at eye level, trying to cover her face. She took me down the sidewalk, back the same way we had traveled, and away from the premises.

"Miss, please!" we heard a male voice behind us.

Charlotte kept walking at a brisk pace, and I kept up with her without a problem. When I turned to see, there were at least five subjects on our heels, all with masks and beaded necklaces around their necks.

"Devils. Devils. Devils.” Charlotte mumbled, annoyed.

"Does this happen to you often?" I said comically.

She gave me a weary look and I laughed. I pushed her into an alley between two tall buildings and heard the men follow us there. Feeling safe in the dim light of the place, I snapped my fingers. She stopped short and turned in alarm.

"What did you do?" she said, appalled.

"Sometimes you forget certain useful qualities of your server, my dear.” I said calmly.

I turned to watch the men following us. They had stopped in place, staring blankly.

"Are they…?" she said with caution.

"They are just in a trance. Just like I did with the musicians in the park yesterday. I could have used my shadow, but they would still be conscious, and I don't have enough thread to sew up to five people's mouths, ” I replied.

Charlotte sighed in relief.

"Thank you.” she said with a half smile.

"I suppose you have an assortment of followers, as expected.” I said, with a hand on my chin, "but I didn't expect them to be your 'followers,' as they are."

"They are a nuisance.” she said, huffing, “It is not the first time that they have persecuted me. I try not to go alone after the shows. I usually go with Vaggie until late at night. And, in the last days, there have been journalists too, waiting for me to come out and attacking me with questions. ”

I cocked my head.

"Do you want me to kill them?" I suggested.

"No!" she exclaimed, alarmed. "Let's just go. You will wake them up when we are already far away. Is that alright?"

"As you prefer. Although, killing them is easier for me.” I said with a shrug.

She shook her head, annoyed. Then she looked around, weighing her options.

"We will have to enter through the back of Mimzy's Palace to avoid another chase like this.” she said thoughtfully.

I unbuttoned my coat and dropped it on her head.

"You may as well cover yourself so as not to raise suspicions, my dear.” I said. "This way there will be no more unpleasant customers who delay the grand finale of El Ange blanc."

She stared at me for a few seconds, meditating.

"It will not be enough.” she whispered.

She went to the man in trance closest to her and took off the cardboard mask that he used. Then, she turned to another subject and removed some of the bead necklaces he was wearing.

"Take off your glasses.” she ordered, turning to me.

"Sorry?" I said, blinking.

"It will be too suspicious for me to come with you, Alastor.” she explained, “No one expects to see you at the venue today, much less with me. Especially today, considering that you should be with Miss Mimzy at the hotel right now. ”

I was going to resist, but there was not a valid enough argument against it.

"Touché.” I finally said.

Resignedly, I removed my glasses and put them in my shirt pocket. She put on the necklaces and adjusted the mask for me.

“That way you'll be fine. You are a master of disguise.” she said, laughing.

"You seem to be enjoying this.” I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps.” she said, biting her lower lip.

Charlotte covered her head with my jacket and took my arm, clinging to my side. We started the walk at a brisk pace, circling the block, intending to reach the back door of Mimzy's Palace. I checked the time on my pocket watch. Fifteen minutes to one in the morning. I looked at Charlotte and, although she kept her head down and covered, I knew she was worried. Her icy breath was noticeable with every shaky puff.

The squeeze of her hand on my arm started to give me pangs of pain, feeling her nails become embedded in the fabric of the coat.

"Nervous, dear?" I said calmly.

"A bit.” she admitted.

"Everything will work out wonderfully.” I said, dismissing her comment.

She sighed heavily.

"It is not by the act itself.” She said. "What I fear is that Miss Mimzy has arrived before us and indicated to Vaggie that I cannot act tonight."

I laughed heartily.

"Oh my sweet Charlotte.” I said, compiling myself. "Do you really think that there would not be a whole war squad waiting for us at the entrance of this place if it had been like this?"

"I guess you're right.” she admitted.

Finally, we reached the back of the entertainment venue. Charlotte rhythmically knocked on the black metal door. They opened on a second try. A portly guard looked at Charlotte suspiciously, but his face hardly changed. Charlotte uncovered her head in my jacket. The guard made an almost reverential gesture for her to pass.

“Ange Blanc. Welcome.” he said.

"Thanks, Ben.” She said.

But when I tried to enter, he put his body between me and the door.

"Where do you think you are going, brat?" he said in a threatening tone.

“Calm down, Ben. He’s with me.” Charlotte said conciliatory.

The guard shot me a suspicious look before letting me pass. I entered Mimzy's Palace safely. Everything was even more chaotic than usual. I could smell the tobacco, the muffled sound of the music coming from the living room and the voices of the dancers preparing. Vaggie's loud voice was also notorious, somewhere in all that mess, trying to give instructions to some cancan dancers. No one seemed to notice my presence.

Charlotte looked at me urgently.

"Go with the rest of the audience, dear. It’s safer if you move in the dark.” she said, handing me back my jacket.

I chuckled.

"I will be one more among your enthusiastic followers, Ange blanc.” I said, with a bow.

"Oh please don't forget..." he said cautiously.

I snapped my fingers.

"Released. Although probably too stunned to return.” I said.

She couldn't contain a slight laugh.

"Come find me after my show, okay?" she whispered, smiling.

I winked at her and stealthily headed for the hallway that led to the main living room. The cancan dancers passed right behind me and reached the stage.

"Charlotte, there you are!" I heard Vaggie's voice behind me as I walked away, "Where have you been?! I was very distressed! It's almost time for your show! ”

"Sorry, I had important things to attend to.” I heard Charlotte.

"What could be more important than the end of the season?!" She screamed, exasperated.

I chuckled again. I put my jacket back on and removed a few specks of dust from its front. Certainly, there were many important things that we had to attend to. And yet, there was unfinished business that I had promised Charlotte that we should discuss the next day. But, there was no rush. There would be time for that.

As I approached the main hall down the long hallway, the revelry of music and lively voices increased. When I looked into the living room, I saw the enthusiastic customers of the venue clapping their hands for the girls on stage. The thick air of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol hit my face. And the floor was littered with thrown confetti and bead necklaces.

I walked over to Husk's bar and sat down on an empty stool. I took off the mask so I could put on my glasses. I didn't want to miss details of the Charlotte show, limited by my vision.

"Husk! How is everything going?" I exclaimed.

Husk was startled and almost spilled the wine that was being served to the person sitting on the stool next to me.

"You?" Husk said, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. “What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Miss Mimzy at the hotel?”

"Oh, there was a last-minute change of plans, dear friend.” I said freely.

"Change of plans?" he said, confused.

"Indeed.” I said, looking at my nails.

“That woman did nothing but talk about this for the entire week. What change of plans could there be for you not to be with her now, freak?”

"Could you give me a whiskey, my dear Husk?" I interrupted him.

He looked at me for a few seconds before starting to pour the liquid into a glass. He placed my order in front of me, rattling the wood and leaning against his arm. He seemed to strain his little brain for a few moments before speaking.

"Let me guess: Did you say something to her that she didn't like?" He said, frowning.

I just lifted my shoulders, feigning ignorance, and took a sip of my whiskey.

Husk frowned even more.

"Don't tell me it has something to do with that girl.” he said suspiciously.

"Is this an interrogation, officer?" I said, sarcastically. "You have no evidence against me."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"You're kidding? Really?" he said, wrinkling her face.

I ignored his lust for enlightenment and started humming while looking at my glass, ignoring it.

After a few moments, and seeing that I refused to cooperate, his mouth twisted.

"Then she will come alone.” he concluded.

"Elementary, my dear Husk.” I said, smiling at him.

Husk ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily.

"Shit! I will have to hide the expensive wine again.” he grumbled.

I laughed heartily.

"A pretty wise idea, coming from you!" I exclaimed, willingly.

Suddenly, a ray of white light surprised me and forced me to close my eyes tight. I had to blink several times in order to get rid of my sudden blindness.

"Alastor!" I heard an animated voice.

I turned around and in the armchair next to me was a man with a camera. He was short and blond, pale and wearing huge glasses with the thickest frame I had ever seen. Both lenses looked like a bottle bottom and the size of his eyes increased quite grotesquely. It was Tom Trench, the editor of the newspaper "The Herald.” He had a glass of wine in his hand, a black hat with a card with the word "press" written on it, and a bouquet of yellow roses on the table.

"Man, your voice is unmistakable, even though I can't see you well!" he exclaimed, motivated by the volume of the music, “You have a good profile. I'll send you this picture later. ”

From his breath and tone, I deduced that he had drunk a fair amount of wine. I looked at my feet. My shadow had completely retracted, for fear of the camera flash.

"Tom, good evening.” I said politely.

"Oh, congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!" He exclaimed sassily. "Everyone is interested in how the charismatic and sullen Radio Demon got involved overnight."

"Certainly, life is quite curious, Tom.” I said, glancing at him.

"And rumors are running fast in this city!" He said with glee. "How envious you make me, man! Not on the part of the marriage, of course. But to be able to enjoy these shows for free as much as you want! I really would love to be you!”

He sighed in his reverie.

"The other day I was with that one-eyed woman, the one called 'Cherry Bomb.’ That girl does know how to use her front attributes, if you know what I mean. Also, she doesn't charge much. I highly recommend her, if you get tired of your wife in bed, Alastor.” he delimited in a libidinous way.

He laughed at his own comment.

"But we don't share the same taste, certainly.” he continued, widening his smile, "You like little fillings, don't you? I have nothing against that. That way you have more to grab, right?”

I drank from my glass again, to avoid seeing his grotesque, lustful expressions when looking at the dancers on stage. That guy was known for his ventures with prostitutes. It was not uncommon to see him hanging around nightclubs, looking for a girl who could access his particular tastes for a couple of dollars. I had found out from a boring talk with Mimzy that the subject had a strange fixation for licking feet.

I looked at him more closely, given the low light of the place, but I could see something strange in his pale face. Prominent reddish marks on his skin. They skirted his mouth and a few, quite large ones, were on his hands.

"Excuse my intrusion.” I said. "But every once in a while, I see you around this place, and I haven't noticed those strange pustules, my good sir."

"This?" He said, without giving it importance. “They started showing up on their own about a month ago, more or less. They don't itch, but they are rather unsightly. And I'm beginning to think that I should cover my face until they pass me by. It must be an allergy to something. Maybe one of these days I should go to a doctor.”

He looked at them for a bit, as if trying to guess where they came from.

"You would need a fairly large mask to cover all of that.” I said, huffing.

"And it would be very uncomfortable. In and of itself, I can't wear a simple cardboard mask for my glasses.”

He drank from his glass of wine and turned to me closely.

"Hey Alastor, going back to the previous topic, I would love to take the opportunity to do a quick interview with you.” he said, giving himself importance.

I looked at him suspiciously.

"What kind of interview?" I said, squinting.

“As you know, my paper had been going through a bad streak with everything from the crisis. Only these last two weeks have we been able to trace sales, momentarily. The sold newspapers have maintained a constant flow due to the string of murders of 'The Vigilante.’ God bless that man.” he said solemnly, one hand on his chest.

I rolled my eyes.

“And also the sudden rise of the Ange Blanc was a magnificent plus to generate interest in the readers.” he said enthusiastically. In fact, I come to cover the news personally. So I brought my equipment to take a good picture of her, like many others. But I will get the best.”

He took another sudden photograph and the flash dazzled me again. I felt my shadow tremble.

"No more pictures.” I said curtly.

"Hahahaha sorry. I want to be ready for when she goes on stage.” He said with excitement.

He looked impatiently towards the stage and then looked at his wristwatch.

“It is already taking too long. It's already past one.” he complained.

"I didn't know she had such a devoted group of followers.” I lied.

He looked at me, almost indignant.

"Where have you been?" He said. “That woman is a goddess in tights. Oh my, are you one of those who only looks at his wife? I respect it, although I don't share it. But, man, you should see how the Ange Blanc dances. I get a rise every time I see her on stage. It's all a quality treat, one that I want to eat. "

He bit his lip with delight. I had an unpleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach and had to restrain my urge to hit him in the face. If the amount of gifts that Charlotte received from such subjects was in itself excessive, she would have to be very careful from now on so that they did not reach her with their filthy hands.

“For as much as you yearn for her, I see that she has rejected you before. Or am I wrong?" I said maliciously.

He growled as he sank down into his seat.

"And not just me. She does not give interviews. Her real name is not even known. She only goes home after each show. She looks like a little girl of good habits, and I think no man has been able to get her to accept an invitation to go out.” He admitted, annoyed.

I was proud of the integrity that Charlotte had in not falling into the lowest of practices for the attention of any subject with money. Undoubtedly, another person would have been tempted to be loved by material attention, but she was still the woman focused on her goals, not accepting shit from intruders who wanted to interrupt her.

"She certainly seems to be on another level.” I said, shaking the contents of my glass. "And therefore, you can't expect her to associate with men who are below her high standard, don't you think?"

Tom cleared his throat and I had to suppress my desire to laugh in his face.

"Oh, don't hesitate that I'll keep trying, my good Alastor.” He said, recovering. “I plan to invite her to dinner. A little alcohol and laughter, and I'll be playing with her buttocks before you know it.”

I narrowed my eyes to see him smack. He was a truly nasty man. I made a mental note to add him to my list of future victims.

Tom looked at me again and took pencil and paper from his jacket.

“But, as I was saying, The Vigilante and the Ange blanc are old news to be on the cover. We need something fresh and new that encourages people to keep buying my journal.”

And he pointed his pencil at me.

"And that's where you would come in. A marriage would be happy news to have in the headline, especially if it is from a public figure as beloved as you, Alastor. There is not a person in New Orleans who does not listen to your radio, and the word of your marriage has already spread, but there is no way to officially confirm it. It would be great to have the exclusive.” he said with a big smile.

Journalists of his type seemed to be nothing more than hunters of any news that could generate royalties. He had previously spent time with Katie and her eagerness to get the public's unauthorized information about the “The Vigilante” murders, and now she had Tom asking for details of a wedding that would increase interest in getting her newspaper.

"I'm not interested in venting my private life, Tom.” I said sharply.

He giggled.

"Oh, come on, Alastor.” he said, "Your public image will really benefit. I assure you that there will be more listeners in your section and the romantic songs will be ordered in abundance. A family man has greater credibility. The name of Mimzy's Palace would be heard throughout the city for weeks. And your name too. You would gain many more contacts. And by the way, you would help me with my sales. It’s a win-win.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and hopeful eyes. I put my empty glass on the table.

“I appreciate your selfless gesture, Tom. But no. I feel satisfied with the attention I already have, which is solely due to my impeccable work on the radio.” I said, intending to stand up.

"Well. I'll take it as a 'maybe,’” he said, winking at me.

At that moment, the lights dimmed and the presenter approached the microphone on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a fantastic Mardi Gras night, and as a finishing touch, we left the revelation of the last show on stage. Big, unique and ours: The Ange Blanc!” he exclaimed solemnly.

Cheers from the room erupted in applause. Tom stood up, jumping enthusiastically.

"Yes! Show us all of yours, baby!” he screamed and whistled.

He turned to me and took his camera.

"See you later, Alastor.” he said hastily.

And he ran to the foot of the stage to settle, along with other media.

I looked up at the stage and the large scarlet curtains opened to reveal the lone figure of Charlotte sitting cross-legged in the center of a chair. She wore her long white dress and matching bowler hat on her head. On her face she had a white mask, which hugged the contour of her cheekbones. In the light of the searchlights, the glitter on her dress made her slim figure shrouded in an almost heavenly glow.

A familiar tune started playing and she stood up.

**I saw you out in the streets again takin 'chances**

**Wearing your shark smile and your cat eyed glasses**

**Drinking and dancing, movin' in the dark**

**But don't forget now darling that I'm also a cat**

She gestured in the air, scratching.

**I've made my decisions since you made me feel blue**

**Now an old gypsy lady's curse, honey, is on you**

She took something from her dress, at the level of her navel with both hands and yanked. My jaw dropped instantly and the men in the room started screaming in elation. Charlotte was right; that dress was special. The bottom peeled off like a cape when she spread her arms, leaving part of the dress in place like a leotard, with thin glitter straps falling over her thighs.

She started dancing.

**Oh honey, a gyspy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse on you**

**A gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you**

She ran her hands over her body, sensually. She moved her hips and toyed with the hat on her head. She leaned back in her chair and wagged her tail at the audience. The crowd went wild. I heard a man, animated, at a nearby table. He seemed beside herself, screaming.

"That’s it! Move that butt!”

I could only watch her, impassive, from my post. I remembered that occasion, where I first saw that show in one of the rehearsals. That time, just in a simple cotton dress, I was on the verge of letting myself loose. I couldn't remember feeling more helpless than looking at Charlotte in that rehearsal on stage, singing and dancing provocatively, while I had Mimzy next to me talking about a dog she wanted to adopt.

Seeing Charlotte overflowing her charms in such a bold way could have been categorically categorized as cruel and ruthless torture on her part. To have her in front of me, rubbing in my face that I couldn't touch her because she wouldn't allow it. Because I had been engaged to another. Waggling the attributes of her body, which I so yearned to touch, and moving with ease in a dance. Feeling my skin burning with desire to rip her dress and take her hard, and having had to restrain it had been agonizing.

That day I had buried my nails in the palms of my hands until they bled, to suppress my desire to go after her. But Charlotte had already left the premises as soon as her show ended and I could not follow her. I already had plans with Mimzy that same afternoon and she would not give me a chance to escape.

Oh, how frustrated my heart had felt! I had imagined thousands of scenarios with her close to me. But I was a victim of my own burning passion for her.

That dance only fueled my desire to have her back, and my murders were more impetuous from that day on. I had wanted her back at any cost.

**An old gypsy lady, she gave me the advice**

**"There's no turning back", she said, "so you got to think twice"**

**Don't know if it's right, but sure it ain't feel wrong**

**And baby, I gotta say that it's just too strong**

Charlotte swiveled her chair around and sat with her legs spread out toward the audience. It seemed that every spectator had forgotten their composure, because there was a general cry of emotion.

**"He'll be cursed and tormented, chased .by demons and ghosts!"**

**The only thing that I replied was "Oh, at any cost!"**

Charlotte jumped up, tail high, and danced again, her hips moving. The glitter strips moved with their daring wiggles. She removed her mask and threw it to the public. Those in attendance began to pull at and hit each other, as if the mask were Charlotte herself.

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you**

**A gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you**

Looking at what Charlotte had become in my absence had been revealing, in more ways than one. It seemed that she had just been holding back the whole time we'd lived together. She seemed a chrysalis that tore its cocoon and went out to dazzle the entire world with its colors. A world that saw her with hypnotized eyes and fell to her knees before her voice and her dance.

She had discovered that attribute of herself that she did not know she had: she drew glances everywhere. Now she was aware of that. And, as much as it bothered her, every star needed to have people keep their eyes on her. I would have to get used to it that her charms were not just for my personal delight.

**You are in big trouble now boy and listen to this**

**The ritual was sealed with my last kiss**

**Run if you want, you can't go really far**

**Maybe struck by a lightening or get hit by a car**

**I've made my decisions since you made me feel blue**

**Now an old gypsy lady's curse, honey, is on you**

Everything was perfect. She would leave that seedy place and find better options. With her uncovered talent and growing popularity, she could aspire to whatever she wanted. Her talent would go with her, and her clients would follow.

She would have to endure an enormous number of men haunting her with innuendoes, certainly. But I already had in mind my methods of keeping things as they were, even though she raised uncontrolled passions in her shows. I would personally see to it that they did not take her away from me.

After all, only my hands had the benefit of touching her and she had let me know. No one but me had the right to taste her lips and smell the perfume on her neck. No one but me could make her moan my name when she climaxed.

No one but me.

The Ange Blanc.

**Oh, Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse on you**

**A gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you**

Charlotte Magne.

**A gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse on you**

**A gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

**Oh, honey, a gypsy curse**

She was no longer alone.

**Oh honey, a gypsy curse on you !**

Charlotte finished her song by pointing forward. Diners applauded, beside themselves. They screamed for more. I also applauded. Photographers lit the base of the stage with a dizzying amount of flash, fighting to get the best angle.

Charlotte made a small bow and walked over to the microphone.

"Good night, everybody.” She said with confidence. "I hope you are having a great time at this end of the Mardi gras season."

The audience applauded every word she said.

“And to be honest, this was the closing song, but given the special occasion, I will make the exception and sing a second song. I wrote it myself a long time ago, so I hope you like it.” she said with a beautiful smile.

People clapped excitedly. Charlotte turned and looked at the band.

"How we rehearsed, guys. Go ahead!" she ordered.

The music started to play. It was a soft, sensual jazz tune. Everyone was immediately silent, looking expectantly at the beautiful woman who was in front of the microphone, moving her hips slightly. Her eyes were closed and a smile adorned her face.

Then, she began to sing calmly and confidently.

**Look at the sky**

**All the bright stars are kissing us goodnight**

**And it's there in your eyes**

**And it's there in your smile**

**Tonight you're mine**

There was lively applause and it subsided as she began the next stanza.

**Hold my hand**

**Feel the love that i have to share**

**Let me take away your tears**

**Let me take away your fears**

**Tonight you're mine**

She opened her eyes and looked at the audience. She moved her hands elegantly.

**This mystic night i will always remember**

**Like the first - the first time ever**

**I saw your face**

**Oh, my demon**

**Look into my eyes**

**And you'll see all the happiness i need**

**'Cause I have you by my side**

**And with this beautiful sight**

**Tonight you're mine**

I leaned my cheek on my hand over the bar and sighed heavily. I was feeling exhausted. It had been due to weeks of constant stress that this was happening to me. Long night hunting hours and little sleep was not something I’d recommend. And added to the intense intimacy I had with Charlotte hours before, it would be enough to allow me to sleep for two days, as she sometimes did. But, listening to her sing, I felt that all the suffering and uncertainty had been worth it.

I listened to her, delighting in the taste of her words. I knew it was a song dedicated to me. She had written it for me and I was completely sure of that. Her soft voice rocked me fondly and seemed to kiss my tired muscles. 

I looked closely around me. It seemed that she had left the audience in a trance. No one made sudden movements. Men and women were completely enthralled with her voice, without losing any detail of her subtle and delicate movements.

Then, I heard Husk growl and looked away from her. He shook his head.

"Yes, it was for her then, you freak.” he said, annoyed.

I smiled more broadly, but said nothing. I looked back at the stage. Charlotte was glowing and I considered myself lucky to have her in my life again.

She continued singing, full of emotion.

**This mystic night i will always remember**

**Like the first - the first time ever**

**I saw your face**

**Oh, my demon**

**Look into my eyes**

**And you'll see all the happiness i need**

**'Cause i have you by my side**

**And with this beautiful sight**

**Tonight you're mine**

**Tonight you're mine**

Sparkling confetti began to fall from the ceiling. The music stopped and the place was filled with applause, screams and whistles. Photographers did not miss an opportunity to immortalize her beauty. Charlotte bowed once more.

"Give a special round of applause for the band!" Charlotte said, waving her arm at the group of men.

The band members stood up and bowed to the warm applause, at the request of the Ange Blanc.

"Good night, New Orleans!" Charlotte exclaimed, raising her arms.

She left the stage, accompanied by a standing ovation from the audience. The lights came on. The band of musicians began to play a dance, immediately. Lots of couples made their way to the track cheerfully. I watched Tom with interest, who was coming back at full speed. He put on his hat, adjusted his tie, and took the flowers he had brought.

"Oh, she is absolutely brilliant!" Tom exclaimed with glee.

"A potential star, no doubt.” I said, naturally.

"By the way, Alastor. Since you are here, there was a favor I would like to ask you.” he said, looking at me with a tight smile.

I looked at him curiously. He was trying to keep his expression calm, but with much difficulty.

“As you know, security guards do not let anyone backstage who is not part of the cast or, rightly, a worker at Mimzy's Palace. And it would be very helpful if I could reach out to her to provide me with an exclusive interview for my newspaper.”

He cleared his throat.

“And, well, since you are an investor here and you have privileged access and all that. I was wondering if you could come with me, to let me through.”

I laughed out loud.

"Do you want to try to get closer to Ange Blanc, my dear Tom?" I said, raising an eyebrow, "Do not make me laugh!"

"I only need to speak to her once!" He said, defensively. "I will ask her if she wants an interview and invite her out for that."

I looked at my glass, spinning it between my fingers. If I thought he was pathetic before, now he had far outdone himself.

"Didn't you say she was completely unreachable even too much better positioned subjects than you?" I said maliciously.

“Oh! Please Alastor!” He exclaimed, pleadingly. "I wait for her outside this place with all the journalists, when she goes home after her acts, in the early morning. But her annoying friend always accompanies her and she gets violent with those who want to approach her. But if I go to the locker room with an investor, there is no way she can sneak out. I can't miss this opportunity to invite her to dinner. I ask this as a favor.”

I laughed in his face. He looked at me indignantly. That man was a poor devil. Although frankly, I was curious about something in particular.

I stood up and looked at him jokingly, over my shoulder.

"Well, if you want to talk to her so badly... Come on then." I said, with a mischievous smile.

Tom's eyes lit up behind his thick glasses.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He exclaimed, trying to take my hand. But I withdrew it before he did. I didn't want to touch his disgusting pustules.

I put a dollar on the bar and took off my glasses.

"See you later, my dear friend." I said, looking at Husk. "Now I have a mission to bring the knight to speak to the lovely Ange Blanc."

Tom leaped ahead of me with joy. Husk looked at me suspiciously. I took out the mask I had on my jacket and adjusted it on my face.

"What are you planning to do, you piece of shit?" he said skeptically.

“I just want to have a little fun before I retire. Good evening, Husk.” I said.

I retired from the bar and came to the hallway that connected to the dancers' locker rooms. Tom was already at the door to the backstage, waiting for me. I didn't stop my walk and went straight behind the stage, with Tom on my heels. The local dancers were all crowded and chatting animatedly, with bottles of alcohol in hand and beaded necklaces around their necks. Happy for the evident success of the closing of the holiday season. I could identify Niftty sweeping back and forth at full speed and Angel Dust in his huge blonde wig, bellowing about where his favorite lipstick was.

"Cherry! You sure didn't take one of my red lipsticks right?! ” he exclaimed, annoyed.

"No, Angel!" Someone was answering him.

One of the guards approached Tom with hostile intent, seeing the hat and the camera he was wearing.

"The press is not allowed behind the scenes.” he said, authoritative.

I raised my hand to stop him. The man looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"He comes with me, good sir. The man here needs to speak to the Ange Blanc on business.” I said.

The burly guard seemed to recognize me from our previous encounter. He looked at Tom suspiciously.

"Very good. But only five minutes.” He said finally. "After that, he gets out of here."

The man turned and stood by the back door of the store.

"That’s it! Go guard the door!” Tom exclaimed, mockingly.

I went to the ampoule-lit mirrors, where the dancers left their things and prepared their makeup. In the last mirror in the row was her. Unmistakable and beautiful. She had put on her raincoat, her blond hair still had some of the glittering confetti from the living room, and she had changed her high heels into more comfortable shoes. She was arranging her bag carefully, in a small space on her counter, ignoring the exuberant amount of flower arrangements that had been sent to her and arranged for her.

Tom looked at me enthusiastically and I waved him over to her. Tom handed me his camera and ran his hand over his forelock, checked his breath, and gripped the bouquet of roses with determination.

"Wish me luck.” he told me.

And he approached her, striding. He cleared her throat and Charlotte turned to hear him. Tom practically shoved his flowers in Charlotte's face.

"Good evening, my beloved Ange Blanc.” He said, in a mock thick voice. "Tom Trench, editor of The Herald newspaper, at your service."

Charlotte brushed the flowers away from her face and looked disapprovingly at him.

"Sir, you shouldn't be in this place. It is exclusive to the cast members.” She said, harshly.

“Nothing could stop me from finally meeting you, my beautiful lady. As a journalist, my duty is to get to the deepest recesses of my stories. Where no other man has been able to go.” Tom said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

He put the bouquet of flowers back in front of her.

"Let me tell you, your act tonight was fantastic. Your voice is incomparable, and what to say about your beauty. The truth is that you have me completely captivated, precious. And so I would like an exclusive interview with you. I want to know all the secrets of the enigmatic Ange Blanc, and all my readers do too. Of course, I offer you the front page only dedicated to you.” he said, puffing himself up.

From Charlotte's expression, it looked like she was facing a slimy toad with a pompadour. I had a hard time holding back the laughter.

“Of course, for privacy in our interview, I would love to invite you to a fancy dinner on Friday. Just the two of us.” he continued, "And obviously I'll take care of all the expenses for dinner... and any nice place we want to go next."

Tom winked cheekily. Charlotte shoved at the bouquet again, awkwardly.

"Sorry, Mr. Trench.” she said, without hesitation, "I appreciate your invitation, but my answer is no. I don't want to give interviews.”

"Let's forget the interview! It will only be dinner!” Tom said with a big smile.

"Um. No."

"Oh, then Saturday."

"Not that either."

"And Sunday? Like a breakfast.” Tom said, unable to hide a note of panic in his voice.

"He is very insistent.” I heard next to me.

Angel Dust looked disapprovingly at the scene, too. He had removed his wig, and the pounds of makeup on his face were beginning to fade with sweat.

"I know it's you, party pooper.” he said smugly. “I saw you enter with the doll a while ago. There is no other idiot with a smile as big as yours. Plus, it smells for miles that you two stinks of sex.”

"I would appreciate it if you didn't speak to me, dear.” I said, trying to ignore him.

"Meh.” he said, making an obscene gesture at me.

We looked on a little more at Tom's pleas. His former upright posture began to shrink with each refusal from Charlotte.

"And how about I invite you to the most expensive restaurant on the coast!" Tom said, losing control.

"Ugh. The other day he offered me the same thing, but I rejected it.” Angel said flatly, “Even if he gave me a new car, I would not be with that syphilis patient. Those pustules are recognizable from miles away for me. ”

So that was it. I figured that in the immoral and vicious life that Angel Dust lived, he must be cautious with such illnesses.

"Disgusting.” I concluded.

Suddenly, he laughed and looked at me with pride.

"By the way, I knew you couldn't resist the doll.” he said, in a low voice, "And I know you should be with Miss Mimzy right now in a hotel bed. Which indicates to me that you left her standing on a sex date and with her horns scratching the ceiling. ”

He giggled.

“The truth is, it was only a matter of time before you came back for Charlotte. She's special.” he said proudly.

He crossed his arms and sighed in annoyance.

“The only downside to this is that Mimzy will eat whatever she sees. And I'll have to leave Fat Nuggets at home for a long time or she'll try to grill him as soon as she gets a chance.” he narrowed, huffing.

I said nothing. I kept my gaze on the growing discussion of Tom and Charlotte. We were no longer the only ones who were pending the development of that talk. At this point, he was kneeling on the floor, hugging Charlotte's calf, as he begged her to accept his invitation to leave. It was an absolutely miserable spectacle. And that he touched Charlotte with those hands full of sores, generated a sweeping desire for her to get away from that leech.

"You are not going to do anything?" Angel said, pointing at them. "He's already bothering her a lot."

I had already proved my point, and it was fun enough for now. But just as I was about to take a step, to go to Charlotte's rescue, Tom screamed desperately from the ground.

“PLEASE HAVE A DATE WITH ME! I WILL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU ASK ME!” he begged, on the verge of tears.

"Leave me alone!" Charlotte exclaimed angrily.

She had lost patience. She took the bouquet of roses and hit him hard on the head several times. Tom released her and gaped at her from the floor.

"You should be ashamed for being so insistent if I already told you, several times, that I don't want to go out with you! I am not interested, period! What a disgusting man!” Charlotte exclaimed angrily.

She turned around, to continue fixing her bag. Tom got up slowly. Everyone who saw the fight was laughing and commenting on the sad spectacle. Angel Dust clenched his stomach and he gasped for laughter.

"Oh, poor fool! That doll has a character to fear!” He said, as he retired to her post.

Tom came towards me, crestfallen and grumbling.

"Everything okay, sir?" I said, without hiding the laughter.

"I am getting out of here.” He said, plucking off the rose petals from his suit.

He snatched the camera out of my hands and hung it around his neck.

"I don't know what you're complaining about.” I said, raising an eyebrow, “You shouldn't even have considered yourself with a little hope. What made you think you were worthy of her attention? You said yourself that she has rejected better positioned subjects than you, dear. ”

I was really pleased to see the humiliation on Tom's face. Charlotte really was blunt and violent in defending her position, and seeing her rejecting such a despicable subject was a delight to my senses.

Tom growled.

“If she wasn't a woman, I would have punched her in the nose for this. I know her kind. She will look very angelic and everything, but surely she is a bitch in bed. "

I frowned.

"Your private life should not be in the public domain.” I said bitingly.

"Come on, man, you're a committed guy, but you can't deny that you would pay a pretty penny for a night with her.” he said, annoyed, "I know she even turned down a mayoral candidate last week. I can't name them, but she sent him flying with his invitation to New York."

Tom did not control the volume of his voice, and some onlookers were listening to every word and whispering. I suspected that the alcohol in his body and his recent rejection was giving him wings, so he would not stop vomiting poison.

"Although I don't know why she plays puritanical, a woman who respects herself would not wear such provocative outfits, knowing what men imagine when they see them dressed like this.” he continued, with a wicked smile, "I am sure that if it were not for the fact that she knows how to sing, she would be the most popular bitch in town. It would not be difficult to have her there. A couple of tickets and she would give a quality blowjob."

I began to feel how my anger and indignation began to dominate me. I looked at Charlotte for a moment. She was watching me with reservations. She shook her head slightly. 

I buried my nails in the palms of my hands, in fists. I inhaled and exhaled.

"I warn you to stop talking about her like that or there will be unfavorable consequences for you, Tom.” I said threateningly.

"Oh, ho ho! Calm down, friend. I'm just commenting on what all men think when we see her.” he said, raising his hands in peace.

"Men you say?" I said with a laugh "Rather, they seem like thoughts of miserable and pathetic vermin, who cannot control their own impulses when seeing a woman in clothing that favors her."

"They are instincts, friend. It is something that cannot be controlled.” Tom said defensively.

I gave him a look of contempt and my smile tightened.

"Why is it that a despicable dog can carry out a simple order not to devour the best piece of meat in front of him, and a man, who boasts of being superior to a quadruped that does not reason, cannot be in control of himself? himself or his impulses? "

He tried to say something, but he cringed as I leaned toward him threateningly.

"If your weaknesses are stronger than you, you don't deserve to be breathing the same air as Ange Blanc, Tom.” I said in a low voice.

Suddenly, he looked at me with a frown.

"Hey, why are you defending her so much?" He said with a hand on his chin.

I began to become aware of the people around me, completely absorbed in our discussion. I stood up and looked at Tom with disdain.

"You are insulting the dignity of a lady in my presence. It is not something I can pass by.” I said slowly.

"Pfff ... Lady! HAHAHA!" he snorted, willingly, "I bet it won't be long before she gives in to someone's courtship with money and sucks it off! We'll see how much of a lady she has left when her mouth is full of ...!"

But he could not continue, because he fell to the ground, like a lead sack and with a broken nose.

"Agh! Auuugh! Motherfucker! My nose!" he whimpered, his hands on his face.

My fist remained clenched and throbbing from the blow I had hit him. I looked at him with contempt, still smiling. No one did anything to defend him, and I heard someone call the guard. I took a step forward and picked him up off the ground, by the collar of his shirt, abruptly. One of the lenses of his glasses had been shattered and his nose was a reddish, bleeding stump.

I looked him in the eye and he returned a panicked look. My cheeks ached from the smile on my face.

"I ordered you to shut up, you annoying little man.” I said, in a threatening whisper.

His eyes were filled with terror. It was that same look of panic that each of my victims had when they sowed their mouths, before stabbing them. That wonderful look that I had seen for so many nights in a row and that I had gotten used to.

One more. Only one more would not hurt. My mind clouded with adrenaline. I'd kill all the witnesses already. There was no problem. I could do it. I would put an end to that despicable vermin first. Then with everyone else.

Instinctively, I wanted to take my knife out of my jacket.

I could evaporate the blood by snapping my fingers. It would be easy and fast. The music in the room would appease the screaming. I would have more sacrifices for Charlotte's life for several more weeks. There were no flaws in my plan. 

But my arm stopped halfway and I couldn't get my knife out. I turned violently to face the intruder on my mission and saw Charlotte grabbing my elbow tightly.

She was looking at me disapprovingly.

"Let's go.” She ordered.

I looked at her for a few tense moments. I blinked once. Twice. I felt how the lane of my thoughts was clearing up again. Charlotte was here with me. I turned to see Tom, who was still paler than normal and with erratic breathing. I released him, slowly. Immediately, he turned away from me and looked at me with disgust.

“Damn scum.” He mumbled.

I stood up, with Charlotte still holding my arm. We stared into each other's eyes for a few moments. Only then did I release all the breath I had been holding.

"Let's go.” She repeated.

Suddenly the guard came to us. Immediately he looked at Charlotte.

"What happened, miss?" said the guard.

“Ben, get that intruder out of here. It has only made everyone uncomfortable.” Charlotte said authoritatively, pointing at Tom.

The guard rushed against Tom and lifted him up into the air. The subject was writhing pathetically there.

"Hey! Why are you taking me away?!” he screamed, inflamed, "He was the one who hit me!"

"Everyone heard the shit you were saying about the Ange Blanc, bag of syphilis!" Angel jumped in.

Charlotte released my arm and looked at me, appalled.

"Are you alright?" she said seriously.

I was impassive, my head throbbing.

"Of course, darling. Although, I admit, a little fresh air wouldn't hurt.” I said, trying to stay calm.

"Oh, for all hell!" Niffty exclaimed, coming out of the audience, "I'll need floor cleaner for this."

She was inspecting the drops of blood on the floor. I had to admit, it was a pretty good blow, because of the amount of blood he lost.

"Well, there's nothing else to see here, girls.” Angel said, clapping his hands to disperse the curious, "You don't have to go home, but you can't keep looking."

Charlotte approached Niffty, who was still on the floor trying to scrub it so as not to leave remnants of red between the cracks in the planks.

"Niffty, are there many photographers outside?" Charlotte said, as if asking the weather.

“The main entrance is extremely crowded, cutie.” Niffty said, "It seems that all the journalists in the city came to settle both in front and behind the premises, since your act ended. If you plan to leave, you may as well use the fire escape.”

Charlotte seemed to weigh the idea for a moment.

"Yes, I suppose it is for the best.” she finally said.

I looked at her curiously.

"It may not be comfortable, but it's the best that..." she tried to tell me, with a grimace.

But an exasperated scream interrupted her. Vaggie came up to us, shoving the curious who were still muttering to each other. Her eyes were injected, her hair was disheveled, and she seemed beside herself.

"Who let a journalist through?!" She roared, "Was it you, Angel?"

"Don't even look at me. I have no dealings with the press since they posted a photo of my worst angle in a newspaper article.” Angel said nonchalantly.

"Vaggie, take it easy.” Charlotte said calmly. "The important thing is that he's already gone."

Vaggie looked at her and gave a weary sigh.

"Charlotte, that guy is the editor of that rather sensational newspaper, and he's also a frequent customer.” she said, annoyed, “The last thing we want is to allow him to write a bad article about us and affect the image of the place. I'm going to have to go talk to him to apologize and give him a bottle of expensive whiskey or something.”

She massaged his eyes.

"Can someone at least explain why they hit him?"

"He started shouting very ugly things about me.” Charlotte said.

Vaggie held her breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"That despicable bastard.” Vaggie muttered contemptuously.

Then she looked at Charlotte with concern.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry this happened. We are going to increase backstage security.” She said, with a friendly smile. "I'll have to thank whoever broke his nose."

"I just want to go.” she replied in a tired voice.

Vaggie looked at her guiltily.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. I will need you to wait a little longer today to go home together.” she said, "I have a lot more work today without Miss Mimzy here. You get it, right?”

"No need, Vaggie.” Charlotte said, with a shy smile. "Today I will not go to your house."

Vaggie cocked her head, confused, and I cleared my throat. Only then did she notice my presence. Even with the mask and beads around my neck, I was sure she knew who I was. Her jaw dropped slightly when she noticed it, then she looked back at Charlotte, her eyes wide.

"Your…?! You guys…? How is that…?" She said, too surprised to articulate a question.

“You're welcome, my dear. It was a pleasure to hit Tom Trench's nasty face.” I said with pride.

"Vaggie, we have to go now. Then I'll explain everything to you, okay?” Charlotte said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Vaggie still looked dazed. She looked accusingly at me and I could only give her a huge mocking smile. Charlotte took my arm and led me to the backstage exit. I followed her briskly down a fork in the main hallway, until I reached the shabby little instrument cellar, where there once was the dusty and helpless piano that Charlotte knew how to make her own. She went to the window, which was the perfect size for us to get through without much effort, and took out the safety.

"Here.” Charlotte said.

She opened the window and went through it. I followed, ducking a bit more because of my height. We stood on a metal platform with a ladder on the side. Our footsteps clattered on the metal.

"Do you usually use this output?" I said, watching her carefully descend the stairs.

"Only in an emergency.” She said, and jumped the last leg to the ground. "The week some guys got into a fight outside Mimzy's Palace and ended with one shooting at another."

I went down the stairs and fell next to her.

"There were so many people and police, we had to leave almost all of the cast around here.” she concluded.

"I guess I should have mentioned it on the radio. One more dead, one less dead…” I said, freely.

We were in a fairly dark alley, right in the middle of the building, down the side. The voices of the journalists, who were on both the front and the back, came to us.

I looked at Charlotte and smiled broadly at her.

"Don't kill them.” She indicated, raising an eyebrow.

"It was going to be my first suggestion.” I said, shrugging.

I took off my jacket and winked at her.

"Once again?" I said.

"If there is no choice.” She conceded, with a resigned smile.

I put my jacket over her head and snapped my fingers. The murmur of men immediately stopped at the back of the premises. I put my hand on Charlotte's shoulder and we walked down the alley at a brisk pace. We passed between at least two dozen journalists who had gone into a trance and with their cameras ready to attack Charlotte with questions and photos. They kept their eyes completely blank and frozen in place. Charlotte looked at the crowd with guilt, but said nothing as we walked away from the building.

It was close to three in the morning and the cold of the early morning and its light mist were difficult to ignore. Automobiles passed us, barely distinguished by the headlights, which illuminated us from time to time. We stopped at a considerable distance, in a corner, next to a lamppost whose yellow light was blurred by the mist.

"You can free them.” She said.

I snapped my fingers, undoing the spell.

"Well, it's all over now.” I said out loud.

Charlotte took the jacket off her head and returned it to me. I settled her quietly, and offered her my arm, but she didn't take it. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at me reproachfully.

"Is something wrong, sweetheart?" I said, curiously.

"Why did you do that?" She said harshly.

"The what, my dear?"

"You know what I'm talking about. That thing of letting that journalist go backstage. You know, better than anyone, that the press is not allowed to go there.”

“Oh, I just wanted to have fun for a moment at the cost of that disappointment. I didn't expect things to get a little out of control.”

Charlotte frowned.

"You wanted to see how I rejected him?" she said, folding her arms.

"And it was magnificent to see how he succumbed in despair at your refusal!" I said, laughing, “You were sharp and accurate. And the hit with his own flowers was a nice touch.”

I looked at her maliciously.

"Now he will need a good mask to cover that broken nose and his embarrassed face.” I added.

She looked at me, annoyed.

"Are you going to make a scene every time an admirer approaches me?" Charlotte said, seriously.

I was silent for a moment and played with one of her locks, between my fingers.

"That is a ‘yes'?" She snapped.

“Sweetheart, I know very well that you can handle the nasty vermin around you, by yourself. It’s not for nothing, you’ve known how you’ve developed beautifully up until now. Also, if you wanted, you could send them flying, literally by snapping your fingers.” I said frankly.

"So, what was that?" She demanded.

I cocked my head, raising my eyebrows.

“This is new to me. I would expect gratitude from you for defending your honor.”

She huffed.

"And I appreciate it, but it wasn't the right way.” she replied, without backing down.

I looked at her quizzically and pondered my words before answering.

"You ask me a lot if you want me to do nothing while I hear someone denigrating you, Charlotte.” I said, "Besides, you can't say that the subject didn't deserve it either. Furthermore, I think that if you hadn't stopped me in time, they would have published his epitaph in their journal tomorrow. ”

She sighed.

"I know. I saw that you wanted to hurt him a lot.” She said.

She approached me and started playing with the lapels of my jacket.

"Look, this is not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me.” She said gloomily, "And it won't be the last, either."

A car passed us, through the thin mist, and illuminated us, then disappeared into the distance.

“Most of the girls in that place prostitute themselves, Alastor. I'm the only one that nobody could convince since I began to work there. I guess that increases the interest of the curious and almost seems like a competition of who comes first. But, I just ignore them.” Charlotte said, annoyed.

I stroked her face with my knuckles.

"I know, honey.” I said softly.

"In light of all that, you can be absolutely sure that I love you.” she said, frowning.

I felt something shaking my chest and stomach when she told me. I knew that. She proved it to me. I felt it in every kiss and caress, but that she told me was still something that generated a general shiver in my body. Although not unpleasant at all, I had to admit. I liked hearing it. I wanted to continue listening to it daily for many years.

"I don't doubt that you love me.” I said, widening my smile.

She stood firm in front of me.

"Alastor, I'm going to keep singing.” She declared, with determination. "Maybe not at Mimzy's Palace, but I will look for an opportunity to continue as a singer elsewhere."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't be short of a good deal. There will be no one who does not want to have the Ange Blanc on their stage.” I said, delighted.

“And I am aware that male attention, which I never asked for, will follow me. But I don't want to have the constant fear that there will be a broken nose after each performance.”

I chuckled and stroked her crown.

"Oh, don't worry, darling.” I said, confidently.” I am completely sure that being an obstacle for you to exploit your magnificent gift would be a crime against humanity and good taste. But forget that. I already have some methods in mind to keep undesirables several meters away from you.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, in silence.

"Please tell me it doesn't include sacrifices and black magic.” She said, narrowing her eyes.

I pursed my lips and widened my eyes.

"Fine, I'll think of other options.” I admitted.

She shook her head, with a smile.

"It’s a step forward.” She concluded, rolling her eyes.

Suddenly she put a hand to my face and took off the mask. Frankly, I had almost forgotten I was wearing it.

"You can take this off now.” She said, amused.

"I was already blaming the mist for why I couldn't see clearly."

I put on my glasses again. I took off the beaded necklaces and hung them around her neck. Charlotte looked at the necklaces with regret.

"I spent the entire period of Mardi Gras working, and did not have time to enjoy anything.” She said with a sad smile.

She looked at me hopefully.

"Will we go to the float parade next year?"

"Of course, darling.” I said, in good spirits.

"Well, it's a date.” She said, winking at me.

Suddenly, she frowned.

"Uh... I have a feeling I'm forgetting something.” He said slowly.

"I doubt it's really important if you haven't thought about it until now."

After meditating for a few moments, without satisfactory results, she let out a sigh of defeat.

"Well, whatever, I'll remember.” She concluded with a smile.

I offered her my arm again, and this time she gladly accepted it and clung to me. We walked through the few blocks that separated us from the hotel with a calm step. Charlotte looked exhausted, but she was smiling.

"Tomorrow you can wake up a little later than usual.” She said, "The radio station is not very far from here. And the room includes continental breakfast.” she said cheerfully.

"I certainly could do with a little more sleep.” I said.

When we arrived at the hotel, it was much less crowded than when we had left. On the central clock it indicated that it was 3:07 am. The guard greeted us and we got into the elevator. Charlotte took advantage of taking off her shoes and going barefoot. Once we got to the room, Charlotte took the keys out of her coat pocket and upon entering, she collapsed on the bed.

She let loose a long sigh.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" I said, closing the door with a lock.

"Yes.” she replied with a big smile.

She stood up to take off her coat. Underneath she was still in her "detachable" white dress.

"That dress was a surprise, my dear.” I said, taking off my coat, too.

Charlotte started rummaging through the large laundry bag on the bed and kept the bead necklaces in it.

"It was Rosie's idea.” She said willingly. “It seems like she's going through a period of special inspiration. She's been in charge of making all my costumes for me since I introduced myself. And I think I will enjoy it very much.”

"I have no doubt that there are macabre intentions behind her kindness, but she has an excellent eye for these things.” I said, without hiding the annoyance in my voice.

Charlotte laughed.

"The truth is that I feel that she uses me as an experimental model for..." She said.

Then she took something from her side and blanched.

"My wallet!" she exclaimed in horror, “I completely forgot it! I have the photo of my parents there!”

She covered her mouth with her hands. I looked at her closely. Certainly, the purse she was preparing did not bring her.

"How clumsy! So I felt that something was missing,” she said, reproaching herself.

"You should have left it on your counter at the local.” I said, cocking my head.

"With everything that happened, it was the last thing that crossed my mind.” she said, sitting on the bed.

I looked at my shadow, which was retracted on my feet. Curious.

"Go to Mimzy's Palace, see if the bag is there.” she said.

My shadow came out to slide slowly across the floor. He looked uneasy.

"Everything alright, my friend?"

In response, my shadow fluttered and slipped under the door, fulfilling my command. I concentrated and watched the path go down the street through her eyes. Finally, she reached Mimzy's Palace and sneaked into the backstage.

"There is your wallet.” she said, "Exactly where you left it."

"Oh good.” she said, relieved.

I cut the vision and looked at it.

“Vagatha will surely take care of taking her to her apartment. You will have time to go get it back.” I said, freely.

Charlotte stood up.

"I hope you are right.” she said, concerned, “I very much doubt that tomorrow I can go back to get it backstage. I will no longer be welcome. ”

She went to the window and looked at the city through the glass.

“It is a pity that we can no longer go even as spectators to Mimzy's Palace. Miss Mimzy will never want to see you or me again. ”

"It is a pity that you cannot separate strict labor treatment from your personal conflicts.” I pointed out, “I still have 32% of that place in my name. I still have the right to be there, as much as it bothers her. ”

"I think that not being able to separate work from what I feel is the only thing I have in common with her.” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes.

I walked over to her and hugged her from behind. I breathed in the scent of her neck and sighed.

"And I appreciate it being so.” I said.

She put a hand on my face and cupped her cheek with mine.

“I am happy to have participated these weeks there, but Mimzy's Palace was just my beginning in singing.” she said for sure.

I chuckled.

"There will be more challenges to match you.” I whispered.

She closed her eyes and we sighed in unison. It was an instant of mutual peace. My mind was already on the edge and if it weren't for standing, I would have fallen asleep by now. Almost as if reading my thoughts, Charlotte separated from me and took my hand.

"Come. Let's go to bed.” she said, in a low voice.

I just let myself be guided. I took off my bowtie, glasses and pants like an automaton. Charlotte, who had removed her dress and remained only in panties, looked at me tenderly. She approached me and took care to unbutton my shirt. She tenderly undressed me and smiled at me. I lay down on the bed and allowed myself to be invaded by its softness. Charlotte turned off the light and covered me with the comfortable blankets. She approached me and tucked me in like a child. I attached my head to her chest and she kissed me on the crown and stroked my hair, lovingly. I sighed with exhaustion. I felt at peace, having Charlotte's warm skin against mine and receiving her sweet attention. Something I had and I had fought to get back. The last thing I knew was that Charlotte's voice lulled me to the verse of a song. The same song she had sung on stage.

**This mystic night I will always remember**

**Like the first - the first time ever**

**I saw your face**

**Oh, my demon**

**Look into my eyes**

**And you'll see all the happiness I need**

**'Cause I have you by my side**

**And with this beautiful sight**

**Tonight you're mine**

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a door knocking. I fumbled for the missing heat next to me and got up. My body still felt heavy and exhausted. The paltry four hours I had slept had not made me recover. An unusual longing to want to go back to sleep was interrupted by the insistent knocking on the door.

"Room service!" said a voice from the other side.

It took me a few seconds to remember where I was. And the dim morning light illuminated the hotel room. The sound of the door opening startled me, but I immediately smiled when I saw Charlotte, in a bathrobe, receiving a cart with breakfast. She seemed fresh out of the shower.

"Thank you very much.” she said, entering with the order.

"We’re here to serve you. Have a good morning.” the bellboy told her.

"You too.” she replied cordially.

Charlotte closed the door and turned to enter with the cart. It was then that she saw me. She smiled broadly.

"Good morning, darling.” she said, placing herself next to the bed.

"Good morning, dear.” I replied.

"I'm sorry they woke you up like this.” she apologized, “But you already have to get ready to go to work. And I didn't want you to leave without breakfast.”

She sat on the bed and kissed me on the lips, which I received with pleasure.

"It will sound unusual coming from me, but I wish it was already Saturday.” I said, standing up, with some difficulty.

My body was still sore from the exhausting rhythm I had maintained, and the little rest.

“I know that the grace of Mardi Gras is that it is celebrated only on Tuesdays. Hence the name.” she agreed, "But it would be more comfortable for those who have to go to work the next day to have a weekend."

"There are customs that cannot be changed.” I said simply.

I moved my shoulders and heard my bones thunder.

“Well, my dear, I will go refresh myself. It won't take long.” I said, walking to the bathroom.

"I'll serve the coffee, for the time being.” she said cheerfully.

I closed the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at how tired she still looked. My eyes were slightly injected and I still had purple bags under my eyes, which they hadn't wanted to leave me for days. My morning beard was barely visible, and I didn't see a need to shave it. With delight I saw the recent scratch marks and hickeys that Charlotte had left on my chest and neck. She was quite a beast with me and I loved that. Also, nothing that a little clothing cannot cover evidence.

I took a quick hot shower that woke me up and felt more invigorated. I put on one of the complimentary robes and left the room, toweling my hair dry. Charlotte was sitting there on the edge of the bed, eating a beigne with pleasure. I had missed, more than she would ever admit, seeing her face every morning.

"Were you hungry, honey?" I said sarcastically.

"Famished!" she exclaimed, her face stained with sugar, “I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. My stomach was a bundle of nerves.”

I sat next to her and looked at her maliciously.

"Don't tell me you were nervous that I wouldn't accept your invitation to come.” I said.

"Not really.” she said, smiling, “Actually, I was nervous about the white outfit that I would wear on the show. It would be my last act and I wanted it to be stunning. Rosie did a magnificent job.”

I looked at her skeptically.

"What?" she asked.

I laughed.

"Oh, you need not be ashamed to admit your wish that I accept your invitation to this hotel, my dear Charlotte.” I said, with disdain, "After all, deep down, I knew you couldn't resist being away from me."

She narrowed her eyes and offered me a steaming cup of coffee. I took it with pleasure.

As soon as I took the first sip, I froze.

"Something wrong?" she said, cocking her head innocently.

I turned to her.

"This has ..." I said, puzzled.

**_Sugar_ ** **.**

"Oops.” Charlotte said, with an evil smile, "I think I passed mine to you."

I put the cup slowly on the cart, still looking at it. She indicated the other cup to me, maintaining her malevolent expression.

"This one here has no sugar.” she said without flinching.

I blinked and raised an eyebrow. I was still stunned.

"My dear, in two years living with me you never got the wrong cup.” I said suspiciously.

"It was two years as a maid, darling.” she said nonchalantly, "Consider this to be our first breakfast without a labor agreement in between."

And she took another bite of her beigne, calmly.

It was revenge. A simple and sweet revenge. And she seemed really satisfied, because her evil little plan had gone as she wanted.

I leaned toward her, threatening.

"Do you want to provoke me, Charlotte?" I said.

"Maybe, Alastor.” she said sensually, bowing too, “And by the way, I was not at all nervous that you wouldn't come to me yesterday. After all, deep down, _I knew you couldn't resist being away from me_.”

She was absolutely magnificent. I was fully aware that she was wearing nothing under the bathrobe. We began to kiss in an outburst, with intensity and fury, leaving half-eaten breakfast forgotten. We were both hungry for each other, and we had the complete disposition to consummate our love once again. But she was a little more rational than me and separated from me after a few moments, with difficulty.

"Darling, darling ..." she said, trying to control herself.

I ignored her allegations and continued to kiss her neck. My hands began to search, anxious, under her robe. Her breathing was erratic, but she kept trying to speak.

"You're going to be late for the radio station ... you have to get dressed.” she said, with difficulty.

I growled. I hated it when she was right. Reluctantly, I had to part with her, as she huffed. She looked at me with a half smile.

"Sorry.” she said.

"Well. You win now, darling, ” I admitted, "But tonight comes my rematch."

"Oh, and I'll be looking forward to it.” she said playfully.

One last quick kiss was enough to close the deal. I drank my (sugar-free) coffee in long sips and began to dress, urgently. Although I had brought a change of underwear, I had to wear the same clothes that I had worn all night before. Perhaps it would seem a little more stylish than what one would expect to go in on an ordinary day of work (and with three fewer buttons on the shirt), but it was an exceptional situation.

I adjusted my glasses and looked at my pocket watch.

"Thirty minutes to 8 am and the station is four blocks from here.” I said, "Fairly good."

Charlotte stood up and handed me my coat, helping me put it on. I let her button it up, with the love only she could bring to that simple action.

She looked at me, with a smile.

"This will be daily again.” she said.

"And I am enormously pleased by that.” I said, bowing to her.

Charlotte chuckled.

"And? What is your plan for today, my dear?” I said.

"I plan to go to Vaggie's house to get my things and ask about my wallet.” she said, frowning, "I hope she did take it."

"Do you want me to pick you up at her house? Today there will be a radio theater in the afternoon and my section will end at four, ” I said.

"It seems perfect.” she said with a big smile.

She arranged my bowtie carefully.

"It all stayed exactly where you left it, Charlotte.” I commented.

"In my room?"

"In the house, actually.” I admitted, "Since I focused on 'community service', I have neglected everything. Fortunately for you, what I did remember was feeding Razzle and Dazzle and the chickens.”

"What a shame.” she said, shaking her head but smiling, "Mr. Alastor being careless. I could never imagine it.”

"What can I say?" I said, with a jagged smile, "With a busy life like mine and without my most trusted ally at my side, everything becomes a bit more chaotic than I expected."

"I leave you only a few days and you neglect yourself like that.” she said, laughing, "Things will return to normal at home when I am back in command. I didn't know how dependent you could be on me, darling.”

"Ever since I tried your jambalaya."

She laughed out loud. I missed that laugh like a bell. And I was extremely pleased that she was the only person in the whole world to laugh out loud at my magnificent jokes. I couldn't help caressing her face once she calmed down and I leaned toward her.

"See you at 4:30, dear.” I said, in a lustful whisper.

"See you, darling.” she replied, knowingly.

We kissed briefly and left the room.

I took to the streets and smelled the cold New Orleans air, in a great inspiration and I released a long breath. I felt alive and my chest was swollen. My joy was such that my tired body was hardly a vague annoyance. I finally felt that my weeks of constant uncertainty had ended successfully. Charlotte was back with me, and I would see to it.

I walked calmly towards the radio station. I could see the way to the "vestiges" of the closing night of the festival. The ground was littered with confetti, multi-colored necklaces, and masks forgotten and trampled by their owners. Some drunk people were sleeping on the street floor, and I even saw a ragged boy stealing the wallet from one of them, and then running away. I sped past, past a small newspaper delivery man yelling in a corner.

"EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL THE NEWS OF THE END OF THE SEASON OF MARDI GRAS! ”

The atmosphere was quieter than usual. On Ash Wednesday, it was always in stark contrast to Mardi gras. Being this, the last opportunity to be able to behave in a libertine and not very decent way, before the period of Lent. Some posters outside a nearby parish said phrases like “Do you want to save your soul? There’s still time! God is waiting for you, ” or, also, “The end of the world is near. Get salvation!” with several men and women with puritanical faces, who entered.

I chuckled softly.

Poor mortals who consider that their futile and ephemeral current existence matters to a god who could not bear to have one of his angels give them the gift of thinking! If that god waited patiently to see how we were wrong, only to rub us in the face that the sovereign right has to punish us just for creating us, I preferred not to follow him. Charlotte's very soul was heavier for carrying the name of that god, and now she was in constant danger, being revived. The name of god had become a curse to her.

"Save my soul. How ridiculous!" I told myself.

I needed nothing more than what I had worked for, which made me feel complete. And I had all of that there in the underworld. And so things were fine.

I started singing to myself as I went along.

**I walk the street's of new Orleans**

**With the girl of my dream's**

**I've seen a dozen brassbands play and swing**

**While little children laugh, dance & sing**

**I've seen old men drunk singin the blues**

**With top hats', canes and spectator shoes**

**I consider myself lucky to have fallen in love**

**With a girl, the city and the river of mud**

**Let me know! Let me know!**

**Where can I go to save my soul?**

**Let me know! Let me know!**

**Where can I go to save my soul?**

**Where can I go to save my soul?**

I got to the radio building on time. The heat from the heating hit my face, and I put my coat and purse on the hanger by the door. I saw my colleagues gathered, talking about something with emotion.

"Good morning, companions!" I exclaimed, as I got closer, "What a splendid morning! Don't you agree?”

There were no greetings. They just turned silent to look at me. They were undaunted to see me there and looked at each other in surprise.

"Something wrong?" I said, cocking my head curiously.

Suddenly they all came, with glee to ... congratulate me? I froze as I felt so abruptly invaded. They took turns shaking my hand, hitting my back giving me their congratulations.

"Congratulations Alastor!" John said.

"You had it tucked away, huh?" Mike said mischievously.

"You have to tell us how you did it, man!" Phil exclaimed excitedly.

I was still too stunned to speak. And the drop that overflowed the glass was a great scream that came from the front door.

"ALASTOOOOOR!" Pentious exclaimed.

He came running to me, and hugged me tight, lifting me a few inches off the floor. I squirmed in his embrace and set myself free at last. I looked at him disapprovingly. The man was disheveled and still in his pajamas.

"AT LAST! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" he exclaimed, happy.

I adjusted my clothes and glasses. I looked at the group of men who were watching me with bright eyes, as if I was the eighth wonder of the world.

"Gentlemen, I think it would serve me well to know why I am receiving such a high amount of praise this morning.” I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't play modest.” Pentious said, waving his hand, "I came as soon as I saw the front page of" The Herald. "

He took the newspaper from the counter and handed it to me.

"You never stop surprising us, Al!"

“And you see what a tremendous woman he managed to conquer! Tell us your secret. "

“I offer my restaurant for the ceremony! I knew you and Mimzy wouldn't last! ”

But I didn't listen to them. I was completely engrossed in one of the front page headlines. A black and white photograph of a couple by a lantern in the middle of a cold and foggy night. He, with a big smile. She, looking at him, with eyes of love. It was me and Charlotte.

**SCANDAL: KNOWN RADIO ANNOUNCER IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ANGE BLANC**

I quickly searched for the main article in the newspaper. I held my breath. There it was. With several photographs of us. Some, where I wore the mask, and one where we were entering The Roosevelt Hotel. I started reading the article, right away.

_By Tom Trench_

_A great bewilderment has plagued the peaceful city of New Orleans. The well-known and acclaimed radio host "The Radio Demon", whose real name is Alastor, was seen in the early hours of Ash Wednesday, along with the popular recent revolutionary singer, the Ange Blanc._

_After finishing a successful show, which marked the end of the party season for the local “Mimzy’s Palace.” the beautiful young woman went to meet her lover backstage. It should be noted that she violently rejected the cordial request for an interview with a server for this newspaper. It was then that the warning signs began to sound, and I decided to follow them._

_So they sneaked down an alley together. Monumentally, they managed to avoid the large number of photographers who were waiting for her in the back. Only to finally head to The Roosevelt Hotel, where they did not leave all night._

_It is a hard blow for all the dreamers who hoped to get the popular lady to accept a gentlemanly invitation to get to know her better. Especially, it is a big blow to the owner of the event room, Mimzy, who is the current fiancé of "The Radio Demon.” as they planned to get married in the coming weeks. It is a real shame to know that her future husband had as a lover a worker from his own establishment._

_However, everything seems to indicate that the relationship between Alastor and the Ange Blanc came from long before. According to a trusted source from the Mimzy’s Palace group of workers, the young Ange Blanc (whose real name is Charlotte) worked for her for years as her maid. Where there is no doubt that their relationship began to flourish from those times where they lived alone, in a quite isolated house, on the outskirts of the city._

_In the words of the young waitress (whose name remains anonymous), many of her colleagues believed that they were married because of their treatment and close body language:_

_"He was always with her. They went out to eat. He bought her dresses. They danced and laughed together. It seemed like they had a very strong bond. So it seemed sudden to me that he became engaged to our boss. We always believed that that guy and that girl were together.”_

_Certainly, it gives the explanation as to why the Ange Blanc did not accept any invitation from any man, because she was already in a secret relationship for months with Alastor. And he got engaged to Mimzy, only to increase his investment percentage on the premises, and to give the Ange Blanc the opportunity to stand out as a sought-after single woman and gain fame with her voice. Thus, later, he would begin to represent her and they would flee together to Broadway._

_A round business that came to light thanks to the hard investigative work of this newspaper's star reporter who unmasked this scandalous romance._

I had to sit down.

That damn Tom Trench was a dead man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIIIIINALLY!!!!
> 
> I THOUGHT IT WOULD NOT END !!!!
> 
> AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Music:
> 
> Gypsy Curse - the Speakeasies ’Swing Band! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSZdV3X9OC8
> 
> Ballad - the Speakeasies ’Swing Band! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZO_pLM6VTc
> 
> Save my soul ~ Big bad vodoo daddy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5IEt63qOSI


	18. Vertigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collateral damage is present.

When Alastor closed the bedroom door, I turned to the huge unmade bed and flopped onto my back. I took a deep breath and gave a huge exhale, with a smile. I was exhausted. I had slept only a few hours and felt the fatigue that had accumulated in my bones. But I felt that it had all been worth it.

The night before had been by far the most exhausting I've ever had in my life. From the intense reunion I had with Alastor, to the closing show at Mimzy’s Palace and the altercation with the journalist, I think I will need a lot of sleep to fully recover.

I was tempted to close my eyes again and rest a little more. I still had the hotel reservation until noon, so I could still enjoy a few more moments of solitude and comfort.

The bed I had been sharing with Alastor still had the particular scent of our combined fragrances. An essence that I had missed for weeks, it tickled my nose, as I recalled our heated meeting. Sleeping with him again had been wonderful. Feeling his warmth on my skin and being able to caress his head until he fell asleep. He was like a mischievous child seeking comfort and lulling after a long day. It was as if I was the only one who could tame that being so passionate and fierce, with sweet words and granting him the peace that he so longed for.

And my heart was happy.

I stared at the ceiling for a while. I thought of Alastor and how tired he looked when he left for work. He had really struggled trying to get my attention for weeks and his weariness was evident on his face. But, when we were both alone, I could once again perceive that same charged complicity that enveloped us. The fire in his kisses, his touch, his breath and his body, confirmed how much he had missed me. Everything was intact for me and there were no longer any doubts. And I couldn't help but reciprocate with the same fierceness. I held back a cry of excitement at the prospect of waking up next to him each day as his undisputed and loyal companion. As equals. Like a couple.

But to say that I was completely calm would be lying to myself. I was far from being able to feel completely calm if I thought carefully about the situation. My chest was loaded with great guilt for those who had been collaterally affected by the situation. It was uncomfortable reality, where were the consequences of my own decisions and it was time to face them.

I scrambled to my feet, overcoming my first urge to go back to sleep, and grabbed the steaming cup of coffee from the cart. I took a sip and sighed. Pretending that things would continue without expecting side effects was absurd.

I looked at the red dress that was still sticking out of the garment bag I'd brought. That dress had been meaningful, without meaning to. I had used it the day I left Alastor's house and the night before when we got back together. In the beginning and the end of a painful period of separation that ended up bringing us even closer.

Everything had gone according to plan. And I had a great, wonderful backup team. Rosie was the great architect of the plan for helping me with my dresses and suits on stage, which made me highlight my body the best. And, also, Angel had helped me with her "seduction classes", which consisted of a variety of tips to take my man to the limit of insanity. They were long, uncomfortable talks of theory, which I just put into practice the night before. I will take to the grave that he advised me to give Alastor stimulating attentions. 

Ever since I'd spoken to Alastor in the backstage, I made my next move: corner him. I acted and put everything together knowing that Miss Mimzy would get hurt if I invited Alastor to drop his plans to go with her, just to go with me. Because I knew that he would go where I asked. I was sure of that. But he had to show his preference by choosing which hotel room he wanted to be in that night. And Angel was my ally, helping me get a room in the same hotel Alastor and Mimzy were going to stay at. And that he came to my room of his own free will was the confirmation that things had ended between him and Mimzy. And also, the public statement that he had chosen me.

And for Alastor to end their engagement, he had to tell Mimzy the truth. And I was in that truth, as a stop stone and the main reason why her wedding was canceled. I knew of Mimzy's passionate outbursts when she was furious. So, I had no doubt that she would fire me and that she would never want to see me again. She would blame me for the failure of her much-loved marriage plans. Not even considering that those plans were completely empty if she didn't have a solid foundation on which to defend their nonexistent relationship. Alastor never loved her and she couldn't blame me for that. She couldn't force him to love her. I couldn't force her to stop loving me. And her great sin was to let herself be carried away by the lie that she made up and desperately wanted to believe. Preferring to live in illusion instead of facing reality.

And yet, I couldn't help but feel bad for Mimzy. Was she still in the room a couple of floors up? I had not seen her, nor heard from her during the course of the night. I had been afraid that she had given the order to block Alastor and me from entering. But she didn't appear the entire time I was on stage. It was not difficult to imagine her in the hotel room, ordering alcohol in room service, and drinking it until she fell unconscious.

Mimzy was just one more victim in this whole situation. A pawn that Alastor used to run away from himself and she lent herself to all that sad situation. Without a doubt, it would be the talk of the next few weeks among her closest circle. A broken engagement was a scandal for someone as well known as Mimzy. Maybe she could make up that she was the one who left him, just to save her reputation. I doubted that Alastor himself would bother to disprove everything, as long as his lifestyle was not affected. He would only enjoy detaching himself from her and his hasty commitment that he started and regretted accepting.

However, I would make sure that only my friends knew the truth of how that engagement had dissolved. I imagined Angel's face looking at me with pride and Rosie's face, impatient for me to tell her details, waiting for me to fulfill my promise to tell her every detail. Only Vaggie would have a more apprehensive attitude to the whole situation. She was always very frank about the mistrust Alastor generated in her.

I took another beigné and began to eat it greedily. There was a lot to deal with in the next few days. But I had to admit, the feeling of uncertainty had not been as overwhelming as I had thought. The idea of facing things alone was terrifying, but my situation had already changed. I not only had Alastor with me, but my friends as well. For the first time I felt that I had them. Not like a crazy dream of a lonely girl locked up in her home, wishing with all her heart to have friends to talk and laugh with, as in the books I read. They were no longer inert dolls that couldn't answer me if I asked them about their dreams.

Rosie, Angel, Vaggie, they were my friends. I could face the future knowing that I was in good company. Their friendship had been key throughout my growth period, and I felt greatly indebted to them. And, although I would no longer be a worker in the same place, nobody could forbid that I could go for a walk with Angel and Vaggie. And that made me happy.

I also thought about my future work. While I would miss performing as Ange Blanc on the Mimzy’s Palace stage, I was sure the doors were open to work elsewhere. I had earned my new reputation and my voice would accompany me anywhere. Working for Mimzy didn´t prevent me from continuing to be a singer in another place.

And above all, I was now with Alastor. I couldn't say that I was "back" with him, because our relationship was always completely ambiguous. No labels, no responsibilities, no commitments. But if I was grateful for one thing throughout that stifling separation period, it was that I had finally gotten Alastor to open up and channel our relationship to something more stable. Cornering him to admit what he felt, or else I was going to continue my way without him. And he got the message in time.

The loss had been minimal compared to the gains.

I stood up, with my cup of coffee in hand, and went to the window, to take a look at the street. The movement of the city was already beginning to manifest itself, with people walking quickly to begin a new workday on that cold winter morning. All engrossed in their own problems, ignoring others and leaving the festive atmosphere that had been in the streets in recent weeks. Everything returned to a boring normality.

I caressed the edge of my mug with my finger. I thought of Alastor and everything I had avoided considering regarding him. There was unfinished business that we had to discuss, and it had been impossible for me to mention since he arrived at the hotel room. But there would be time. I wanted to know more about the days he spent working with my father. I wanted him to tell me some of his long talks about the discoveries of the grimoire, some anecdote with some stuffed animal that dad commissioned him to make or some private joke that they shared related to their shared tastes.

It still seemed incredible to me that they had forged a friendship. Also, that I could never run into him, because I continued with my dolls and my cup games, like every girl who was oblivious to her father's work dealings. I found myself pushing my memory to the limit in recent weeks, trying to focus and rescue that moment when Alastor and I first saw each other so many years ago. But it was useless. I did not remember it. That moment must have been so fleeting and unimportant to my childish mind that I shouldn't have kept it in my memories.

Needless to say, my head was filled with "what if ..." during that period. What if I had never gotten sick with cholera? What if I hadn't gone on that trip with my parents? What if Alastor and I had grown closer during my childhood and I began to yearn to become his wife from a crazy adolescence? What if my parents never revived me? What if the attorney, Mr. Gilbert, had never sent the letter to New Orleans and my uncle never found out that I ever died? What if my uncle never burned Little Devil? What if…?

I shook my head. No. No more assumptions. Things were what they were. And so, I had to face them. Everything I had experienced, the decisions of others, added to mine, had led me to be where I was. And I liked what I had become. I wanted to rescue the result as something positive in everything that I had experienced in my short existence.

I thought of Alastor again and sighed. In two years of daily coexistence we had reached that point. All the audacity and security I had when speaking to him, contrasted with when our treatment was exclusively labor. Where I couldn't talk to him without getting nervous. After all I had never felt anything like that for a man. A real one, at least. I'd always dreamed of princes in fairy tales, slaying dragons for their princess. Or, as a teenager, I would read Elizabeth's adventures with the wealthy Mr. Darcy in "Pride and Prejudice." But it was not of a prince, nor of a baron with whom I had fallen in love, but of the most rare and charming of men. And he had fallen in love with me.

I laughed to myself when nostalgia invaded me. I remembered how I started to like him in the first months I started working for him. His treatment, his intelligence and his sense of humor were completely attractive to me. Added to that I already knew him, since I listened to his radio program sacredly during my recruitment. The weekends at the Magne mansion seemed to last forever, as his radio program was only heard on weekdays. And I longed for Monday as soon as the Friday program ended.

In retrospect, I doubted that he would have been aware that I generated an attraction similar to what I felt for him, until more than a year later. Of that I was sure. But, although he always maintained a professional treatment and, later, a chaste friendship towards me, there were times when the invisible line that separated us was blurred and I felt something different. Something new and powerful that we were afraid to test in those days.

I remembered, then, last summer. When the heat and humidity were so suffocating on a Saturday night, we had to put hammocks in the entrance shed and put a large screen around it, to prevent mosquitoes from eating us alive. They always itched me much more than him. Alastor said they used to have a preference for sweet blood. So, I had to add lavender oil every so often to avoid getting bitten.

On that occasion, he was only wearing a T-shirt, with shorts and loafers. And I in a short nightgown with straps that clung to my body because of the humidity and I kept barefoot, for comfort. That Saturday we were sitting on the front steps, drinking lemonade, with the radio on, chatting and laughing until two in the morning. The heat had become bearable enough to be able to sleep just at that time of the morning.

_***_

_I yawned from exhaustion._

_"Are you sleepy, darling?" he had told me._

_“It´s not often that we are awake at this hour, Mr. Alastor. " I said, sincerely._

_He laughed._

_“It is certainly an unusual situation. " He agreed. “But the heat inside the house made it worth sleeping outside.”_

_“I hope the temperature has dropped a bit by tomorrow. We are easy prey for mosquitoes out here. " I said wearily._

_“Luckily for me, your blood is more attractive to them than mine. " He said, with a big smile._

_I pouted and he laughed. He stood up and rolled his shoulders to stretch._

_“If you'll excuse me, I must go to the toilet. " He said._

_He took the empty lemonade pitcher and the two glasses that were on the step next to him._

_“I'll drop this off in the kitchen on the way. " He added._

_“¡I can do it…!" I said, immediately, standing up._

_“It's nothing, darling. " He interrupted me, politely._

_And he went inside the house. I was alone for a moment and I sighed._

_I looked up at the night sky, through the insect screen that surrounded the porch. I hated that there were such sharp proximity limits. Seeing him in such light and casual clothing had allowed me to see more of his skin. His scarred arms gleamed in the subtle light of the oil lantern. And I had silenced all the questions regarding them. But I had to arm myself with patience. There would already be a suitable moment when I could know the origin of such marks on his body._

_At that moment, I felt a slight sting in my left chest. A mosquito was drinking my blood._

_“¡Ugh!” I exclaimed with disgust._

_I tried to slap it to death, but it managed to flee. I tried to crush it in midair with my hands, but it was too elusive. Until I lost track of it after several attempts. The sting it had given me was already a reddish dot, and I grunted with rage. I took my bottle with lavender oil. A lotion that worked as an insect repellent. I flipped the bottle to apply some to my hand. But I mismeasured the force and it came out in excess. In a panic, and seeing that the lotion dripped from my fingers, staining the floor, I began to massage my breasts with the oil, without stopping to grumbling against the mosquitoes._

_“Stupid blood-sucking creatures. I don't even know why they exist for. " I was complaining._

_I looked at my breasts in annoyance. I had been soaked by the excess oil that I had spread, and so much lotion remained on my hands that I had to spread it out, massaging my thighs and arms. My body was completely shiny, and I felt uncomfortable. It looked like a swamp slug with a strong lavender smell._

_When there was no more lotion left on my hands, I snorted in annoyance and turned around. I immediately froze in place. Mr. Alastor was standing in the doorway, looking at me in a way I didn't know how to interpret. His smile was still there, but his gaze seemed lost. Completely absorbed, without taking his eyes off me._

_"Mr. Alastor? Are you ok?" I said cautiously._

_He blinked, giving a slight start. He seemed to come out of his trance and cleared his throat._

_"Mosquito trouble, dear?" He Said._

_I raised my shoulders with simplicity._

_"Like every summer." I said wearily. “Lavender lotion doesn't really help much. It just leaves me all oily. "_

_“So i noticed.”_

_Another silence. I waited for him to add something else, but he just leaned closer to me, tense. He raised a hand and hesitated. He flicked one of my bangs with one of his fingers in a quick motion and put his hands behind my back again. I looked at him, absorbed._

_He cleared his throat again and looked away. He turned to his hammock._

_“Well, I think it's time to sleep. The heat is bearable. " Sentenced._

_Then i saw it._

_Instinctively, I raised my hand and slapped Mr. Alastor's bare shoulder, the corpse of the escaping mosquito in my hand. Only then did I notice my fatal mistake. I had touched him! More than that! I had hit Mr. Alastor on the shoulder for killing the mosquito!_

_I covered my mouth in horror._

_“I-I'm so sorry! I saw a mosquito and I thought…! I don't know what I thought! " I exclaimed, desperate._

_Mr. Alastor had his back turned to me; still. I imagined that he would reprimand me, disown me, fire me right then and there. But he only stood for a few moments before turning his head. He looked at me with tense eyes, but with his unchanging smile._

_“Don´t worry darling." He said slowly. "It was just a mosquito.”_

_"I'm truly sorry!" I tried to say, again, in terror._

_“Oh! The heat makes us think and do strange things! " he exclaimed._

_And he began to laugh. He still had his back to me._

_I looked at him confused. I felt that retaliation for such insolence should be punished. For simpler things, like brushing his elbows when I was in his taxidermy workshop next to him, he asked me to keep my distance. But by a clean-handed hit, he was so cheerful as if it hadn't been of greater importance._

_"Do you feel good?" I ventured._

_He ran a hand down his arm and then put his fingers on his jugular, taking his pulse._

_"I think I have an allergy." He said thoughtfully, frowning._

_He put a hand on his belly. I looked at him curiously._

_“A very spontaneous and quite curious one. " Sentenced._

_"Oh! If it's a skin thing, I know a lotion from…” I tried to say._

_“No. No._ _No más lociones. No more lotions._ _No more oil. " He said._

_He climbed into his hammock and settled with his back to me._

_“Good night, darling.”_

_I stood there for a few moments, stunned. I waited for him to say something else, but it didn't happen. I made my way to my hammock and settled down to sleep in the opposite direction. Everything that happened had left me incredibly confused. His reaction to being touched was completely unexpected. Almost like feeling that watching him sleep could be considered an invasion of his personal space, even worse than hitting him, I avoided glancing over my shoulder all night._

_The next day he brought a large sack of rosemary leaves, and we began to burn them in a container. It was quite effective in warding off mosquitoes because of the fragrance it expelled. However, and strangely, my lavender oil disappeared from my drawer without a trace, and Alastor insisted that it would not be necessary to replace it._

_***_

I laughed and sighed at the memory. I could bet that he himself had taken care of disposing of that bottle of oil. Since then things had gotten more intense between us. Little moments where I felt that tight tension between the two. And we were both trying to run away. But there it was, and it grew insistently. So palpable and crisp for everyone but ourselves. There were not few people who noticed that situation between the two of us. It got to the point where we were mistaken for a married couple when we were out in town. And frankly, I couldn't blame people for thinking so.

I took one last sip of my coffee and ate what was left of the beigné. I dressed calmly and ordered the big bag where I had carried my change of clothes, my shoes, my makeup, the bowler hat, the red dress and the one I used in the show the night before. I checked several times that nothing would stick with me, berating myself over and over again how I had been so careless to leave my wallet in the backstage. I had a couple of dollars in it, but the most important thing was my notebook with my parents' photograph on it and losing them would be a huge personal tragedy. Mimzy’s Palace didn’t open until three in the afternoon and I had to vacate the hotel room at noon. I couldn't make time at the hotel, so going to Vaggie's was my first stop. I was praying to heaven Vaggie had my wallet so going to her house was my priority.

A little before twelve o'clock, I went downstairs to the lobby and walked over to the receptionist. He seemed quite amused reading the newspaper.

“Good Morning." I said. "I come to return the key to room 302.”

The receptionist looked up at me. He seemed stunned for an instant, and then he smiled at me, delighted.

“Of course, ma'am." Said.

He received the keys and handed me the book to sign my departure.

“We hope you have enjoyed the facilities. " He said, with deference.

“It was all fantastic. I hope to have the opportunity to stay here again. " I assured.

“I'm very glad to hear it. You and your partner can come as many times as you like. It's a great place to unleash love. " He said.

I frowned. I found it quite an invasive comment.

“I'm already retiring. Have a good day." I said cutting.

He didn't seem to take my tone into account. He was still very excited.

“Have a nice day too, Ange blanc. " He said, politely.

I looked at him apprehensively, but he continued with an enthusiastic smile.

“Goodbye." I said, before I turned around.

I didn't know why I was surprised. My name had resonated for days in many places due to my shows at the Mardi gras and had already been mentioned in the newspapers on more than one occasion. Alastor murders had been the only other thing that had sounded so loud. And although I had already assumed unnecessary attention, I still found it uncomfortable to be recognized and greeted by strangers in my everyday life.

I walked out through the revolving door, listening to the reception phone ring. The cool morning air would calm my flustered nerves. I set off with a steady step and swerved around the corner to get to Vaggie's house quickly. The hotel was fairly central and had most of the places I knew close at hand. Mimzy’s Palace, Rosie's emporium, and Pentious's restaurant were barely a few blocks apart.

The streets of New Orleans were calm after several days of carnival. Now was the time where everyone should be modest and maintain the attitude of every good Christian. The holiday season had come to an end and on Ash Wednesday the time of recollection began, with a hangover and necklaces around the neck.

On my way I saw that several people were looking at me. Some were whispering among themselves. Others followed me with their eyes without being discreet, and some pointed at me boldly. I was mortified. I hoped they hadn't taken bad pictures of my show, so they would look at me like that. Perhaps Tom Trench had mentioned his rejection of me in the gossip section, leaving him as a victim. I wouldn't be surprised by a man like him, who denigrated a woman for refusing to go out with him.

I sighed bitterly.

“The news! Read all about the end of the Mardi Gras season! " a child shouted in the street.

I went up to the little newspaper boy and took out some coins that were left in my coat pocket.

“Give me one, please. " I said, handing him a few pennies.

“Sure." He said.

When he handed me the newspaper, he gaped at me. I tensed.

“Excuse me miss." Said the boy, curious. "By any chance are you the Ange Blanc?"

I made a face. I took a quick look around me. People kept watching me.

“Yes, it's me." I said, with resignation.

“I see. For you I had to go and order a second batch of newspapers this morning. I will get double pay thanks to your news. " Said the boy, enthusiastically.

“Oh. " I said with a nervous smile.

I tucked the folded newspaper under my arm and hurried on. “Thanks to my news?” How bad could what Tom Trench wrote for revenge be? I held the newspaper tight and the fear of reading it began to increase.

I had walked a few meters and it was then that I noticed something fluttering at my feet. Something silent and black that circled me with a long tail.

“Shadow?” I whispered.

He stopped and looked at me, or so it seemed. I looked around and started walking again, still looking at the floor.

“Alastor sent you? Is he ok?” I said quietly, worried.

He moved his head vigorously and I cocked my head.

“So ... why are you here?”

It was unusual for Alastor to part with his shadow when it was not completely necessary. Usually, he sent him to go take a look at home, when I spent most of the day alone.

"What happen?" I insisted.

The shadow was restless. It seemed like he wanted to tell me something. It slid off my feet, catching my own shadow and I started to feel something pulling me back.

“¡Hey…! ¡¿What?!” I said, confused.

I tried to go against the pull, but I couldn't move forward. As if it were a mime fighting against a strong wind, I was being blown away by an invisible power in the opposite direction to my target.

“¡Stop pulling me! " I exclaimed, upset.

Immediately the shadow released me. I looked at him angrily and he looked at me with regret. I forgot how much the wraiths feared my orders. I looked around and had caught the attention of a few people who were looking at me curiously. I covered my face with my hand, embarrassed, and started walking at a brisk pace. The shadow slid past me.

“Do you want me to go back to the hotel? The reservation ended. I've already handed over the room key. " I said, in a whisper.

He just nodded, silently. I peeked over my shoulder. Surely the people who were looking at me would think how crazy I was to talk to the floor.

"Does he ... want to extend our stay?" I said, still looking ahead.

I stopped at a crosswalk and glanced at the ground. The shadow nodded.

I snorted, smiling.

“Okay, I'll be back after I go to Vaggie's. I have to go get my clothes. I have no more spare clothes left. " I said, conciliatory.

I started to get back on track, when the cars stopped passing, but again I felt how he was pulling me, in the opposite direction.

I looked at the shadow, angry.

"May I know what your problem is?" I rebuked him.

In response, the shadow "pushed" my shadow. I felt that force on my back and fell flat on my face. The bag with clothes and the newspaper fell to the floor. I got up with difficulty, ready to berate him for his bad behavior. But it was then that I saw it. The shadow, under the newspaper, began to point to the cover. I picked it up from the ground slowly. A black and white photograph of a couple by a lantern, in the middle of a cold and foggy night. Him with a big smile. She looking at him, with eyes of love. It was Alastor and me.

**_SCANDAL: KNOWN RADIAL ANNOUNCER IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ANGE BLANC_ **

I read the headline several times. I looked at the shadow on the ground and I could swear he was looking at me as if he were giving me his condolences.

"How did this happen?" I whispered.

“Miss, do you need help? " I heard a man close to me.

I scrambled to my feet and ran off, ignoring his offer.

I ran looking for a lonely place. I wanted to escape all those reproachful eyes that followed me. On the next corner, I spotted a phone booth. I walked in and closed the door behind me. Only then could I collapse on the ground. I covered my face with my hands, took a deep breath and sighed long, several times to regulate my breathing. I looked at the ground. The shadow was still there, expectant. I groaned and picked up the newspaper. I plucked up the courage and opened it, looking for the article dedicated to me.

I read every paragraph of the news in disbelief. That I was Alastor's lover? That it was all a plan for my popularity to increase and for him to increase his profit percentage? Alastor was my manager? That we were going to flee to Broadway?”

I wanted to cry with outrage. I let out a cry of frustration as I crumpled the newspaper into a ball and squeezed it with all my strength. I stood up and took a coin out of my coat and put it on the phone.

"Operator, please, I need to make a call to the WSMB radio station." I said decisively.

“Of course. We will connect it right away. " I heard the kind voice of a woman.

I had to wait a few overwhelming moments, before I heard a man's voice answer.

"Hello? Speak to WSMB radio. " He said, in a monotonous voice.

“Ahm… uhm…” I mused.

"Hello?" he insisted.

“Oh, yeah. Hi.” I said.

I took a deep breath.

“I need to speak to 'The Radio Demon', please. " I said, seriously.

“He's busy on his lunch break now, miss. " He Said.

“I know but…”

“If you want to drop off your musical requests, that ended at ten. " He interrupted.

I armed myself with patience.

“Listen please. I am the Angel Blanc. I have to talk with him." I said, with authority.

“Yes, of course…” he laughed, incredulous. "Look, miss, if you want to take advantage of the situation, I recommend that you try to create controversy with my partner elsewhere.”

My patience was already at its breaking point. Suddenly i had an idea.

“I can show you that I am The Ange Blanc.”

“Let's see." He said defiantly.

So, I took a breath and sang.

 _“I've made my decisions since you made me feel blue_   
_Now an old gypsy lady's curse, honey, is on you_

_Oh, honey, a gyspy curse_   
_Honey, a gypsy curse_   
_Oh, honey, a gypsy curse_   
_Honey, a gypsy curse on you!”_

There was silence on the other end of the receiver.

"Is it really you?" said the man, with contained emotion.

"I already said yes, and I need ..." I said with authority.

"I went to see you at your show last night!" exclaimed “I loved your closing act!”

“Ehm… Thanks, but…” I tried to say, massaging my temple.

“¡HEY, AL! ¡ YOUR GIRL IS ON THE PHONE! " I heard him scream. "AND IT SEEMS THAT SHE´S FURIOUS, PARTNER!"

I covered my eyes with one hand. It was barely past noon and I felt that the humiliations didn´t end. Alastor's shadow had slipped into mine and was watching me intently. I felt a jump in my heart when a familiar voice answered the phone.

“¿Charlotte?”

“Alastor.” I said, with relief.

“I imagine why you called me, darling. " He said wearily. 

“I just saw the front page of the newspaper. " I confirmed.

I sighed, full of heartbreak.

“People kept looking at me on the street. I thought I had become paranoid, but after reading the headline ...”

“Everyone talks about that today. " Confirmed.

"Did they tell you something at work?" I said nervous.

“I had a warm welcome from my team at the station. Even Pentious even congratulated me.”

"Congratulate you?" I said, confused.

“My dear, you don´t know the reach you have among the public and their longing to reach you. " He said, simply. "And you made a name for yourself as being unreachable."

I flinched, embarrassed.

“And, obviously, the only man who achieved the feat of reaching the magnificent Ange Blanc could not help but receive the compliments of his peers. " Declared.

“What a disaster…” I mused, overwhelmed.

“The funny thing is that no one seemed to consider that I was engaged, until much later. " He added thoughtfully. “I guess no one was very much on board that I was going to marry Mimzy in the first place. Rosie will be delighted.”

“Ha. Ha.” I said, sarcastically.

I sighed bitterly.

“Unlike you, they will see me as a home breaker. " I said, upset. “Like the one who got in between her boss's wedding plans, to seduce her fiancé. Especially since everyone thinks it was a stupid plan, thanks to Tom Trench.”

“Honey, you can't ask so much of humanity. The masses do not think. They only allow themselves to be guided by the one who seems a little less lost than they do, and they will be influenced by their opinions, adopting them as their own.”

"But this time it was our turn to be in the eye of the hurricane." I said, distraught. "It will be us they will talk about for weeks."

"Of that there is no doubt, darling." Replenished.

"I should have stayed at the hotel." I said, pouting.

“I tried to call you at the hotel reception to extend the reservation, but you had already left. That's why I sent my shadow to warn you not to go out. " Explained.

I looked at the shadow at my feet.

“I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in time, shadow.”

The shadow moved a little, as if snuggling.

"Are you close to Vagatha's house already, dear?" Alastor said calmly.

“About three blocks.”

“I suggest you stay there, until I come to pick you up in the afternoon, as we had planned.”

"Well." I said, exhausted. “I hope this doesn't get worse. Maybe I'm just worrying too much and nothing serious happens. After all, it's just an article in a second-rate newspaper.”

There was a pause.

“Alastor?” I said, curiously.

“I'm glad you didn't listen when I had to read the article dedicated to us this morning in the news section. " Commented.

“¡NO!” I exclaimed, horrified.

If you could die of humiliation, I would have dropped dead on the spot.

“So it is, dear." He said, very eloquently.

"I can't believe it ..." I said, in a small voice.

“It was Pentious who insisted that it was news to be read live. I couldn't refuse, because he's one of the radio investors. It was basically an order from above. He seemed especially delighted with the news. He was always on bad terms with Mimzy. He thinks she deserves everything that happened to her. "

I covered my mouth in disbelief.

“Our little adventure in the hotel has been quite popular, even coming from such a tabloid newspaper. " He continued. “But I can't blame them. You and I together are quite a show! "

"You seem to be enjoying it." I said, upset.

“You get me wrong, dear. It is tremendously uncomfortable that our personal life is in the collective interest.”

"Of course!" I exclaimed indignantly.

“But everyone is aware of this great combination: a story from The Radio Demon and The Ange Blanc. And where there was a double betrayal for Mimzy, who was my fiancee and your boss. Unfortunately, these types of stories have a large audience and they will surely look to us to ask for details about the matter.”

“It can't be… I hope this doesn't have repercussions on your work. " I said, mortified.

“Not at all." He said, fluently. “They are more than delighted that we will have larger audiences for several weeks. Also, they invited me to lunch. Sir Pentious brought some things from his restaurant for everyone at the station. I guess they expect some juicy details, which I don't plan to share.”

"Oh. Well." I said, with relief.

“They also want advice on how to win a woman like you, dear. I´m something of a hero to my peers at the station. " He said, with a note of pride.

"Be careful what you mention." I warned him.

“Not a word that can further taint our shaky reputation will come out of my mouth. I assure." He said.

“I no longer know what people will think of me. On the way here, they looked at me with such reproach. " I said, upset. “As if I don't have enough problems with journalists who expect to interview me whenever they find me. Now they will look for me to know details of this scandal.”

“It's the price of fame." He said.

I snorted and looked through the cabin windows. I saw people walk nonchalantly down the street.

“The only thing I can rescue from this is that I will not be chased by fans, wanting to have a chance with me. " I said, after a few moments.

“Eventually, everyone would know that you are no longer alone. But I didn´t expect to make our relationship public on the radio. Not yet, at least. " Commented.

"This is no time for jokes, Alastor!" I said, with annoyance.

"Who is joking?" He said sincerely.

I could imagine him smiling, his gaze devoid of all guilt.

"Were you planning to say you had a relationship with me on the radio?" I said, incredulous.

“With this whole Mimzy marriage thing over, I was planning to wait a few days to announce it. I can´t deny honest citizens such good news. " Commented.

"Are you serious?" I said stunned.

“Darling, when everyone knows that you are no longer alone, you can keep the undesirables away. It´s a less violent method that can satisfy you. " He said, cheekily. And what better means of diffusion than the radio to indicate that the Ange Blanc isn´t available? And, better yet, let them find out from a reliable source, which is me, as the co-star of the news.”

I leaned against one of the walls of the phone booth. I didn´t know what to say. In another circumstance, such a clarification on his part might even have been romantic. It was still quite new to me that he spoke so fluently that we were now a couple. He seemed specially to enjoy emphasizing it. Although there was no kind of formal proposal involved. Knowing it, aware of the real course of what we were building together, was a balm for my restless heart.

I couldn't help but smile a little.

“I can then trust that Ange Blanc is already with someone, if you confirm it, Radio Demon. " I said, maliciously. “You are good at putting special emphasis on the points you want to make clear.”

I heard a soft laugh from you.

There was a silence. I hugged myself and sighed.

"What are we going to do now, Alastor?" I said, tense.

"Don't worry about him, darling. It's already on my list. " He said, in a low voice.

I frowned, confused.

"Of whom you speak?" I said.

"From the forerunner of all this mess, dear.”

"Are you talking about Tom Trench?"

"Indeed.”

"I wasn't talking about a homicide, Alastor." I said, putting my hand over my eyes.

"Anyway, I already have it on the list." He said calmly.

"Aren't they supposed to be just criminals?" I questioned him.

"Anyone who talks so vulgarly about you is a potential criminal to me." He explained.

"We will discuss that later." I mumbled.

I looked at the newspaper lying on the floor.

“Alastor, what is the best thing to do in this situation? People will talk about us for weeks. Two months passed before they stopped talking about the city secretary's affair with a prostitute. And with everything that is going to be said about me, I very much doubt that they will hire me as a singer in any place. " I said.

Alastor seemed to think it over for a moment.

“It will be strange if I tell you, but at times like this, it is better not to attract more attention than it should for a long time. Any move or word we say will be used against us.”

"That idiot Trench." I spat. “Half of the things he said in his article were lies. That he was a gentleman to ask me for an ‘interview’? That there was a macabre plan in all this? That we were going to flee to Broadway? "

"Those are the rules of sensationalism." Alastor explained. "'Never let reality spoil good news for you." And Trench just wanted to sell his miserable newspaper, even if that included writing lies about two well-known figures. "

"I don't regret hitting him with his filthy flowers." I said angrily.

"The best we can do now is keep a low profile when we are in public." He said.

“Doing low-key things is not your style, dear. " I said, raising an eyebrow.

"That´s not my speciality. But under the circumstances it's the best we can do until all of this calms down. " Admitted.

“¡Hey, Al! You are on air in two minutes! " It was heard, someone's muffled voice.

“Darling, we'll talk in the afternoon. I must go back to work. " Alastor said urgently.

“Okay, I'll go to Vaggie's now. I will see you later." I replied, disappointed.

“Goodbye dear."

“Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone, feeling a strange mix of helplessness and anger. Hearing Alastor's voice had calmed me down. But confirming that everyone in the city now knew about our relationship and that I became the villain of the story, by acting in complete disloyalty to my boss, "taking" from "her" man, left me very worried.

I left the phone booth with my bag of clothes and the newspaper. I made my way to Vaggie's house. I couldn't help but notice a group of five women who had a cross made of ash drawn on their foreheads while they carried a bible tightly held to their chest, as if they were creating a shield against evil beings. Those women seemed to recognize me and began to whisper among themselves, while they shot me looks of disgust. I hastened my pace, to lose sight of them.

If I thought about it, it was crazy. Why was he getting praised and I getting blamed? He was supposed to be the one who had betrayed Mimzy to go, willingly with me. Why was I the traitor to my boss and not him to his fiancée? It was a situation that revealed how unfair the treatment of women was, not so with men. A man was allowed and forgiven everything, even when he was married. That distinction between genders was disturbingly normalizing.

Unfortunately, I had to go through Mimzy’s Palace to get to Vaggie's house. I kept my eyes glued to the ground and strode past. Fortunately, I didn't run into anyone I knew on the way.

I arrived at Vaggie's apartment complex, breathing hard, and took the steps two at a time, until I reached her door. I played rhythmically and moments later someone on the other side spoke.

“Yeah?” Said a voice, it wasn't Vaggie's.

“Uhm… ¿Vaggie?” I said, confused.

“Sorry, miss, no stale bread. " They answered.

“¡Angel don't do that! " Vaggie's voice scolded him

Angel's unmistakable laugh reached my ears.

Vaggie then opened the door and stared at me for a few moments, seriously. She was still wearing her baggy purple two-piece pajamas.

“Charlotte.” She said, crossing her arms.

“Hi, Vaggie.” I said uncomfortable.

“Aren't you with 'Mr. smiles'? " She said, looking up the ladder.

“He had to go to work in the morning.”

“Oh.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"Where were you last night?" She demanded to know.

Vaggie was frowning and refusing to look at me.

"Can I come in?" I Said.

She sighed heavily.

"You are here already." She said, annoyed.

She stepped aside and let me in. I put my bag on the ground and took a look around the place. Everything was messy. Angel's heels and her clothes were on the floor, Vaggie's purse and coat were on the couch, and a half-eaten chocolate bar was on the table, next to what looked like their breakfast: a couple of cups of coffee and scrambled eggs with bread, and a few slices of ham rested on a plate.

“¡Little Doll!” Angel exclaimed, willingly, raising his cup of coffee.

He was wearing one of Vaggie's long robes, and I suspected he had nothing underneath.

“Hi, Angel.” I said.

"You can still walk!" he said cheekily and laughed into the air.

I felt how I blushed at his insinuation.

“¡Angel!” Vaggie exclaimed, slamming the door. "What the fuck are you saying ?!"

"Come on! You have to say things by name. " He said maliciously. "And I'm sure they weren't going to play cards all night when she left with 'Mr. Smiles.'”

"Don't listen to him, he's just saying stupid things." Said Vaggie, annoyed.

“There is no worse blind than the one who doesn´t want to see. And, in your case, it would help you to get that hair out of your face. " He said sarcastically.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Angel.

"The idiot was too drunk to walk home at dawn, so I brought him here, before he was hit by a car or drowned in vomit." Vaggie answered for him.

"Let's clarify that if Cherri hadn't promised to go feed Fat Nuggets after her 'service', I wouldn't have agreed to come to your matchbox." Angel defended himself, snatching the newspaper I was carrying in my hands.

"This is the last time I save your miserable ass." Mumbled Vaggie.

“I´m a fundamental part of your cast. It won't be the last time you'll help me if I get intoxicated, Administrator. You wouldn´t abandon one of Mimzy’s Palace's valuable resources. " Said Angel, moving his eyebrows.

Vaggie slapped her forehead with her hand and then looked at me.

“Charlotte. Now, can you explain to me what the fuck happened last night? " She said, seriously, crossing her arms.

“Well, I…” I tried to say.

"What does she have to explain?" Angel jumped defensively, standing up. "That she went to a hotel with Mr. Smiles..."

“Don't be ridiculous, Charlotte never…” Vaggie tried to say.

“The truth is… yes." I interrupted her. "I was with him at the Roosevelt hotel.”

“¡¿WHAT?!” she screamed.

“¡YES! " exclaimed Angel triumphantly and sat down again. “Niffty owes me lunch. She bet Mimzy and 'Mr. Smiles' would fuck last night. "

Vaggie looked at Angel, then at me, as if waiting to be told it was all a joke. But since it didn´t happen, she turned to me, and took me by the shoulders, altered.

"Tell me that's not true, Charlotte!" She demanded to know, looking at me.

“But it's the truth, Vaggie. He and I were together. " I said, cautiously.

"You are crazy? He's Miss Mimzy's fiancé!”

“Meh. The truth is that they didn't even seem like a couple. " Angel said, shrugging his shoulders.

“This is not like you! What the hell were you thinking?! " Vaggie exclaimed.

“Vaggie…” I tried to say.

“He took you to that hotel under threat, right? " She sentenced.

“Vaggie, I…”

"Did he do something to you against your will?! When I see that son of a bitch, I swear…!”

“¡No, Vaggie!” I said, firmly.

She stared at me, stunned. I looked her straight in the eye.

“Alastor would never do anything to me that I didn't want to. If I was with him, it was of my own free will. What's more, I was the one who invited him to my hotel room in the first place. " I clarified.

Vaggie released my shoulders, at the impact of my words.

“¿What you say…?” she said, wide-eyed.

“Angel helped me make a reservation at the Roosevelt Hotel. " I explained. “It was I who planned that meeting. Alastor did nothing but answer my call. "

I looked at Angel, who was reading the newspaper.

“Thank you very much for that, Angel. " I said, with a smile.

"You owe Fat Nuggets a new toy." Angel said, winking at me. "But I'm glad you're happy.”

I smiled at him. Vaggie went furious to Angel.

"Were you into all of this?"

“Pfff… of course.” He said, exasperated. “Little doll was crazy about Mr. Smiles and he was dying to be with her again. I only contributed my grain of sand.”

“But they shouldn't be together! He's engaged and he made Charlotte cry! " Vaggie said.

"What is your problem?" Angel said to her. “If they want to solve their problems and they were able to reach an agreement that leaves them both happy, what is wrong with that?”

"But he's not good for her!" She exclaimed, fiercely.

"That's what you say. She is the one who decides who she wants to be with. " Angel said, raising an eyebrow.

“Angel, please. Stop saying stupid things. He is engaged to our boss! " Vaggie said. “When she finds out that her fiancé and Charlotte are together, she is sure to fire her”

“The little doll knew it and took the risk anyway. " Angel said, glancing at his sidelong. "You underestimate her abilities.”

Vaggie was hyperventilating, her face enraged. It looked like she was going to jump on Angel's neck at any moment.

“Vaggie, listen.” I stopped her. "Alastor left his engagement to Miss Mimzy before meeting me at the hotel."

Vaggie looked at me like she couldn't digest what I was saying.

"I was not going to be her lover." I said, firmly. “I made it clear to him that the conditions of being together were subject to my demands. And he accepted them.”

“Roarrr…” Grunted Angel, feigning a scratch. "This little doll has claws.”

“Mimzy's marriage was dissolved the moment he left the room she had reserved to spend the night with him. She is aware of everything. " I explained. “He went to my hotel room after finishing with her. After that I went to do my act and we went back to the hotel.”

“Oh, I would have paid to see that breakup. " Angel said, with delight. “I bet he told her everything directly and without breaking a sweat. Miss Mimzy is a drama queen; I don't even want to think about how she must have cried.”

“Well, he told her the truth about what was happening. I doubt very much that she wants to be with a man who told her to her face that he is in love with another woman. " I said, raising my shoulders. 

Angel chuckled.

“Subject him to an ultimatum, by forcing him to choose which woman he really wants to be with. It was a good plan, little doll. My respects.”

“You are a great friend, Angel. " I told him, with love. 

"This is crazy!" Vaggie said, exasperated, clutching her hair. "Why didn't you tell me about this, Charlotte?"

"You never liked Alastor much, Vaggie." I sincerely told her. "I was sure that you would have tried to get me to give up the idea of wanting to be with him.”

“Of course, I would have refused! I'm your friend, Charlotte! The least I want is for you to get hurt! " She said, hurt.

He looked at Angel, reproachfully.

"How could you help her with such a devious plan ?!" demanded.

Angel stood up and leaned over to look at her defiantly.

“Helping her achieve her happiness is what friends do, girl. You can't protect her forever, especially when she was sure of what she was doing. " He said.

"But she doesn't know how to take care of herself!" Vaggie exclaimed in a fit of anger.

I stared at her hurt and she looked at me sadly.

"She is an adult." Angel said, crossing his arms. “If she is happy with that guy, I can't help but support her and advise her if she needs me, even if I don't agree with everything she decides. That's what friends do. " Said Angel, seriously.

Vaggie looked at him, disgruntled.

"Or not?" Added Angel, maliciously.

Vaggie lowered her face, annoyed.

I looked at Angel, moved. He considered me his friend. Despite the short time we had lived together, I also felt him as someone close. Like an extravagant and funny older brother who gave me his knowledge of the world, and who cared about me, in his particular style of showing affection.

“Vaggie…” I tried to say.

Vaggie was shaking with rage. Seemed to be on the verge of crying.

“By the way, doll, this is a good photo. " Said Angel.

He was showing the front page of the newspaper and my face twitched. Vaggie took it. She read the headline and turned the pages to read the news.

"What the fuck is this?" She said as the reading progressed.

"The reporter from last night." I explained, frowning. "Wrote a trashy story about Alastor and me.”

"The bag of syphilis?" Angel said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup.”

“Now I understand why he was talking to Cherri. " He said, with one hand on his chin.

"With Cherri?" I said, surprised.

“I saw them chatting in the early morning.”

"So, she was the waitress that he mentioned as his source?" I said, upset.

“I doubt very much that Trench told her it was an interview. He must have only asked a couple of questions. " Angel said indifferently.

Angel sighed with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that she wasn't with him at a 'service.' Cherri often takes unnecessary risks. Also, with that broken nose and those pustules that guy looked …” Angel made a face of displeasure

I ran my hands over my face in frustration.

"But she was the one who told him that Alastor and I had a close relationship for a long time." I said, huffing.

Angel crossed his arms.

"Cherri did nothing more than detail what we all saw." Angel said. “It was no secret to anyone that you looked like a pair of lovebirds. And, maybe, I mentioned to him that he gave you the red dress that you wore when you went to try out the piano. If anyone is to blame here, it's me, little doll.”

I looked at him, annoyed. But I didn't say anything. I had barely spoken to Cherri. And I knew that she shared an apartment with Angel. No wonder he had told her that Alastor had given me expensive clothes when I was just a servant. Besides, I had accepted that everyone noticed that close relationship I had with Alastor. Not that we were subtle about it. I could not blame Cherri for having commented something so simple to a journalist who misrepresented everything she said to write an article that would damage our image.

"I don't blame Cherri." I said, finally. “Nor do I blame you. This was all Trench's fault. He was the one who used that information against me, because I rejected him last night. Everything else is lies. "

"Running away to Broadway was a nice touch." He said with a half-smile.

"Yes, we would fly away riding a cloud, eating rainbow cotton candy." I said, sarcastically.

Angel laughed.

I looked at Vaggie, who had her fingers clenched on the newspaper.

"Vaggie, all that's in there are pure lies from Trench." I said, cautiously.

"That you guys stayed in a hotel is a lie?" She said, without looking at me.

"No, that is ..." I tried to say.

"And that your relationship was going back before you got to work at Mimzy’s Palace?" I interrupted.

"No ..." I admitted.

“Charlotte, have you been together before? " she demanded to know.

"Just intimacy, no names, no commitments." I said, with my heart beating.

Vaggie winced.

"And still you can forgive him for getting engaged to someone else if they were already together?" She said, raising her voice.

"I already discussed that with Alastor, Vaggie." I said, with determination. "That commitment was nothing more than a way of trying to escape because he was in love.”

"Wow ... what ways that guy has to do things." Scoffed, Angel.

"Now we will do things right." I assured.

"This is bullshit!" Exclaimed Vaggie.

She threw the newspaper to the floor, angrily.

"Charlotte, can't you see how weird that guy is?" She said, almost pleading.

I looked at her in surprise.

"You've lived with him for two years; you must have seen something strange in his house!" She Insisted.

I frowned.

"What do you mean?" I Said.

She looked at Angel, as if waiting for support.

"Seriously, I couldn't be the only one to notice. Didn't it seem strange to you that the murder spree started right after Charlotte quit? There were a lot of murders in a very short time. We hardly saw him. And when He came back! He looked all emaciated. As if he hadn't rested in many days. Besides, I know that he spends his free time killing animals in the forest for fun."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What difference is there between knowing how to kill an animal than to kill a person? He would know how to do a clean job! " Sentenced.

"You are paranoid." Said Angel, skeptical.

“And today, after being in the hotel with Charlotte, there is no news about a new murder? After days and days of non-stop murder? Just today? " Vaggie continued.

"Are you suggesting that‘Mr. Smiles ’is‘ The vigilante ’? Angel said, crossing his arms.

"Vaggie, he is not a murderer." I said calmly.

It amazed me, again, how I could lie so fluently on the subject.

"Do you really want" “Little doll " over here to distrust him, accusing him of being a murderer?" Angel bounded.

He took a sandwich from the table and looked at her, annoyed.

“Do you really want her to part with him that bad? You're wrong girl. " He told her.

Vaggie stopped on the spot. She hugged herself and sighed.

"Forget about it." She said, in a low voice.

She walked to the couch and lay down, remaining in a fetal position.

I looked at her, feeling a lot of heartbreak. Even if I wanted to, I could never say anything about Alastor's identity as the vigilante. The spell of secrecy would remain with me to safeguard your anonymity.

"Girl, I know you don't like the idea of them being together, but you can't say things like that without proof." Angel rebuked her.

And took a bite of the sandwich. After swallowing, he disfigured his face in disgust. He removed the top bread and saw, to his horror, that there was a sheet of ham inside.

"Ham!" He exclaimed, dropping the bread.

He rushed to the bathroom.

"Angel!" I said, following him.

I saw him kneeling on the toilet, vomiting hard. I closed the door behind me and knelt next to him, to caress his back.

"Damn ham ..." He said, raspy voice, before throwing up another bit more.

"Can't you tolerate eating ham?" I said, curiously.

He withdrew from the toilet and went to rinse his mouth at the sink.

“Ugh, I don't tolerate anything that comes from pig. " He said, wiping his mouth with a towel. “I love Fat Nuggets so much that I refuse to eat any of their peers.”

I laughed lightly.

“It's very sweet that you take care of him so much. " I commented.

"We have each other." Said. “Not counting Cherri, of course. We have an agreement that one of us has to get home at dawn to give FatNuggets his breakfast.”

"I have Razzle and Dazzle at Alastor's." I commented. “They are two adorable little goats. She also has some chickens. They are quite useful to get free milk and eggs.”

"Does Mr. Smiles have pets?" He said, incredulous.

"Technically. He thinks he'll eat them all at the end, I guess. But I try not to kill the chickens, and I'm very protective of Razzle and Dazzle. " I explained. “He told me that he wanted to have a pet crocodile when he was a kid.”

"Ugh, I can imagine him walking around with a crocodile." Angel said, grimacing.

"I think even he knows that a crocodile is not a tame pet." I accepted.

“Grumpy Vaggie could use a pet. At least that way she would have someone to project all her overprotective energy onto. " He said, with disdain.

Then I sighed heavily. Angel sat on the floor next to me.

"Hey, Vaggie can be a headache." He said, indifferently. "Don't take into account what she tells you."

"It's not that, Angel." I said, looking at him. “Everything is happening so fast. Just this morning I was calm because I had fixed my situation with Alastor, and I knew I had to face Mimzy at some point. But with all this problem with the article in "The Herald" newspaper, and with the whole city hearing about my personal life, I really feel overwhelmed.”

"Everyone was going to find out, doll." Angel said.

"But it seems that everyone looks at me as if I were some kind of slut.”

"People will speak just because and because they can, little doll." He said, indifferently. "You can never keep everyone happy, especially those who believe they have the right to say who you put in your bed.”

"It's stupid." I said, upset.

"Yes, it sucks." He agreed.

"And now Vaggie is upset." I said sadly.

"You knew she was going to be mad, so you didn't bring her into the plan in the first place." He reminded me. “An explosive reaction on her part was to be expected.”

"She can be very closed-minded." I admitted.

"Trying to accuse ‘Mr. smiles ’of being a murderer was pretty low." He said, annoyed.

I nodded without looking at him.

"But what hurt me the most was that she believed that I don't know how to take care of myself." I muttered. "I thought I had shown that I can be independent.”

I huffed, lowering my head.

"She has a bad habit of wanting to control everything." He agreed, annoyed. “Sometimes her shitty attitude of wanting things her way, restricting the freedom of others, annoys me. Especially with you who are her friend. She can't wait for you to always be close to her so she can take care of yourself.”

"I´m not a defenseless creature." "She cannot belittle all that I have accomplished on my own.”

"That is clear to me, little doll. You have been my best apprentice. He said proudly.

Angel sighed and leaned on his knees.

"But I can also understand her, in a way." Commented. “From the most egotistical part of myself, I wouldn´t want you to leave if I was in her place.”

I looked at him.

“A good friend, in an apartment, where they have a good time, they work in the same establishment, and they spend most of the day together… I would not like the idea of being alone again, with no one to chat with in the afternoons.”

He smiled at me.

“If Cherri started dating someone and thought about moving in with that person, I'd be the first to wish her happiness, but I would throw a big tantrum too. I also don't like the idea that, one day, everyone will have to go their own way. But it is inevitable, and we have to accept it.”

I was surprised by the maturity of his words. I assumed it was something that he had assumed and meditated on for quite some time, to put it so clearly. Knowing that each individual, no matter how friendly they might be, are destined to establish their own family nuclei with someone else and, therefore, stop seeing each other with the same frequency, that was sad, but real. Knowing that you will arrive and be left alone in a space that was shared for a long time with someone you really appreciated, must be devastating. Alastor came to my mind at that moment and how he must have spent the weeks that he lived alone in his house.

"Had not thought of that." I said, with regret.

"Mimzy wouldn't be the only one to get hurt in all of this." Angel said, simply. “I would recommend that you talk to her to clarify things. Someone with a wounded heart can be very fickle.”

I looked at Angel, and I smiled at him.

"You're right. I'll go talk to Vaggie. " I Said.

I stood up and walked out of the bathroom.

Vaggie was still in the same position on the couch, facing the wall. I walked over to one end of the couch and sat down.

"Vaggie." I said, cautiously.

She didn't move.

"I need to talk with you." I insisted.

She turned her head, to look at me sideways.

"Vaggie, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." I said, with guilt.

Vaggie shifted and straightened into a sitting position, slowly, her head lowered.

"I didn't stop to think about how you would feel about all this." I continued. “I excluded you from my plans, because I thought about how you would react. And I think I understand why you reacted like that. And I'm really sorry. Because, the truth is that I would behave the same way as you.”

I put my hand on hers and leaned into her.

"Because I feel the same for you as you do for me, Vaggie. And I hadn't realized how important you were to me. " I said.

She looked at me, surprised. I took her hand in mine and looked into her eyes.

"Really, sorry for not realizing until now." I said, moved.

"Are you serious?" she said, her eyes sparkling. "How did you realize?”

"It was pretty obvious after connecting the dots." I said, simply.

"And don't you think it's weird or ...?" She said, insecure.

"Of course not, Vaggie." I said, firmly. “What we have is so strong and so deep that nothing and no one can take it away.”

“Oh Charlotte, I don't know what to say…” She said, with tears in her eyes.

"You have nothing to say, Vaggie." I said with a big smile.

She looked at me with a radiant expression.

"I promise you that we will always be the best of friends." I said solemnly.

Her expression fell in an instant.

"What?" She whispered.

"That's right, Vaggie." I said, resolutely. “I understand the discomfort you must feel because I leave your home to live with Alastor. I too would feel very sad if my best friend went to live with her partner. But I promise that I will visit you often. And above all, I promise you that we will always, always, always be the best of friends.”

Vaggie's jaw dropped, from the shock.

"BOOM! That must have hurt! " I heard Angel screaming from the bathroom.

"ANGEL!" Vaggie screamed, furious.

"I'm not listening!" He screamed.

Vaggie patted her face and then looked at me. I looked at her curiously. She sighed and then gave me a small smile. She took my hands warmly.

"Yes, Charlotte, we will always be the best of friends." She assured me, looking into my eyes.

I smiled gleefully and gave her a big hug. She gave it back to me.

“Charlotte, I know I can't keep you here, no matter how much I want to. I dont trust him." She said seriously, pulling me away...

"I cannot force you to trust him." I told.

She let out a sigh, of regret.

"Just promise me that if something bad happens you won't hesitate to call me, okay?”

"Sure, the same goes for you." I said, delighted.

"Awww… How touching!" Angel said, coming out of the bathroom.

"You are also a great friend to me, Angel." I assured him.

Angel came up to me and ruffled my hair, playfully.

“You have earned a special place in my heart, baby doll, but don't tell Cherri. She is very jealous about it. " He said tenderly.

I looked at the time. I was surprised that it was almost three in the afternoon. Suddenly my mind lit up.

"Oh! By the way, Vaggie, did you see my purse backstage? Last night I forgot to take it with me. " I said, worried.

"Yes, I saw it. It was at your post. " She said. “I was going to bring it. But I just ran into Angel in a deplorable state …”

"Hey!" Angel exclaimed indignantly.

"So, it´s still there?" I said sad.

“We were the last to leave. The only one who stayed was Miss Mimzy. " Said Angel, sipping his cold coffee.

“Did Miss Mimzy come back last night? Why?" I said, surprised.

"Because… is it her house and she sleeps on the third level?" Said Angel, as if telling me the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, Angel." I told him, frowning. “I mean, I thought she was staying at the hotel for the rest of the night. That hotel is too expensive to waste a reservation.”

"I wouldn't want to stay in the same hotel where my heart was broken either." He said, simply.

I bit my lip.

"I guess it makes sense." I admitted.

"We saw her around five in the morning." Explained Vaggie.

"And she was in a bad mood." Angel said.

"Now I understand why she ordered us to leave when she arrived." Vaggie said thoughtfully, her hand on her chin. “She asked me to evict the few drunken customers that were left. She wanted us to leave her alone.”

"Surely she was restricted from alcohol in the hotel and went to attack the bar of her own business." Said Angel, with mockery.

I complained.

“I have to go get my wallet. I have very personal things there. " I said.

"Surely Niffty will find it." Said Angel.

"I don't want someone to be snooping through my stuff." I said, cautiously.

While Niffty did an excellent housekeeping service, she was also known for going through every wallet and purse that was lost on the premises, before going to drop off any lost items. And the least I needed was someone to take a look inside my notebook.

"Do you want us to go find it for you?" Vaggie volunteered.

"It would be very helpful." I Said.

"US?" Angel complained.

"Yes." Vaggie told him authoritatively. "You already have to go.”

“I haven't even finished my breakfast. I just threw it up! " he exclaimed. 

“Angel, your civilian clothes are still there. Unless you want to continue with your short dress all the way home, you have to accompany me. You know that prostitution is punishable in Louisiana. And you don't exactly look like the most discreet of citizens in those boots. " She said, with authority.

"And can't you bring me my things when you go for the purse?”

"Am I your maid?" Said Vaggie, annoyed.

“Ugh… fine! Let's go." Growled Angel, surrendering.

He took his boots lying on the floor and began to put them on.

"Did I pay you to complain?" she said, crossing her arms.

"No, it is a job that I don´t do for profit." Answered, maliciously.

I laughed when I saw them. I felt that the atmosphere was much less tense than moments ago. They both dressed quickly and left for the place. Vaggie emphasized that it would not be long and that I could have the vanilla cookies she had in the cupboard. I was worried because I hadn't had lunch yet.

Meanwhile, I busied myself with tidying up my bag with the clothes I had in Vaggie's room. I left everything folded and put away, being careful not to leave anything forgotten in the drawers. It was exciting to think that I would put my clothes back in the closet in my bedroom at Alastor's. Or would it be that we would share a closet and a bedroom? I assumed that would be the case.

Once I was done packing my bag, I ate a couple of vanilla cookies, just to do something else. I noticed the time. Forty minutes had passed and Vaggie still hadn't come back. Which was pretty weird, considering Mimzy’s Palace is just a couple of blocks away and getting back and forth shouldn't have taken that long. I began to fear that they had not found my wallet. There was also the possibility that Alastor would come looking for me while I waited. It would seem very rude to leave her a note for having left without waiting, or worse, to invite Alastor to settle in and wait on the living room sofa and she would see him when he returned. It gave me chills to imagine the scene.

I looked at the clock again. It was barely ten minutes to four. I could go on a race to see what was happening, and if they still couldn't find my wallet, at least I would tell them that I would go with Alastor as soon as he arrived for me.

I put my bag of clothes by the door and locked it with the copy of the key that Vaggie gave me. I looked at the floor and saw the shadow still curled up at my feet. Looked at me with curious eyes.

“I'll just go take a look. We will return immediately. " I assured him.

I left the building and walked quickly, hoping not to meet reproachful glances again from people who recognized me on the street. I got to Mimzy’s Palace in a couple of minutes. I noticed that the front door was half open, which meant they were in the process of cleaning. I sighed regretfully. I started to go through the alley to get to the back door. Surely Ben would already have the order not to let me in, but at least I could ask him to let Vaggie know that Alastor would come looking for me.

"Girl." I heard behind me.

I spun around with a start. It was Husk. He had a couple of big bags with trash.

"Husk! Hi. You scared me." I said, relieved.

"What are you doing here?" He said, walking over to the dumpster in the alley and shoving the bags inside.

"I come to see Vaggie." I said.

"She is everywhere looking for something.”

“What happens is that last night I left my purse backstage and she is looking for it for me. But I was worried because she still hasn't come back.”

"I imagine why you want to enter without being seen." Growled.

I lowered my eyes.

"I imagine you read the newspaper." I mumbled.

He leaned against the wall; arms crossed.

“You are what everyone talks about. Mimzy won't be happy to see you. She's done nothing but chatter about you and Alastor, she's still reading the newspaper since I got here.”

"I know." I said, with regret.

"She said she would fire you." He continued.

"I know too.”

He looked at me with a frown.

"Look, you'll have to see Mimzy sooner or later to get you fired." Said. “It is better to do it all at once instead of delaying it. It will be useless to try to escape from it.”

I sighed with regret.

"Maybe it's the best." I accepted.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll be around in case things get tense." He said growling.

"Thank you very much, Husk." I said shocked and surprised.

He spat on the ground.

“I just do what I have to do. Is not for you." He said, grumbling.

I smiled, tenderly.

"I will miss working here." I said, with a sad smile.

“It will be strange not to see you fluttering. I was already used to seeing you. " He said.

I couldn't help but smile.

He headed inside and I hesitated for a few moments before following him.

Maybe it was for the best. Receive my pay, my dismissal, a few words from a jilted woman and it would all be over. I wish I had more time to prepare my heart for what I was going to face. I took several breaths on the way to Mimzy's office, my heart pounding and my hands sweaty.

Husk stopped at the point of the corridor that separated our paths.

"Just scream if the lady gets intense." He said, before going to his post at the bar.

"Thank you." I said, with a weak smile.

He quietly withdrew and I walked to the management door, awfully tense. I took one last breath before knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" I heard Mimzy's voice from the other side.

I gulped. I looked at the shadow of Alastor who was still watching me, intently.

"It's me, Miss Mimzy!" I said out loud. "I´m Charlotte.”

There was a long silence. For a moment I thought I wouldn't open it, until I heard the click of the lock. The door opened slightly. Cautiously, I pushed the door open until I could see inside the office. Everything was a mess. Several empty wine bottles were on the ground, along with heart-shaped chocolate box wrappers, with the legend 'The wedding of the year M + A.' And papers spread on the floor, folded and some torn, which appeared to be wedding invitations. The plaster bust was smashed on the floor, and a white wedding dress on its mannequin was torn from cuts by a butcher knife. Beaded necklaces, high heels and something white that looked like salt was scattered all over the floor.

I looked at Mimzy, who was settling into her chair behind the desk. Her appearance was deplorable. She had black makeup-streaked tears on her cheeks, her hair was disheveled and lifeless, and she wore a pink satin robe. Her sallow, makeup-free face and serious expression made her look much older than she used to project.

"Come in and close the door, Charlotte." She said, seriously.

I immediately obeyed. The atmosphere was charged with a very hostile vibe. Mimzy looked at me indifferently, while holding in her hands a fabric from a half-finished blue sweater.

"I guess you came for this." She said.

And from her desk drawer, she took out my wallet and put it on top. I opened my eyes to surprise.

"Take it." She said.

I cautiously approached and took my wallet, to hug it to my chest. I took a couple of steps away, quickly. Like waiting for her to jump on me to hit me. But she was just undoing the knitting of the sweater, stitch by stitch, while pulling the master yarn. I stared at her suspiciously.

"Miss Mimzy ..." I tried to say.

“You are fired." She interrupted.

My chest felt a painful prick.

"Already knew." I recognized, sadly.

She stopped destroying the blue sweater and stared at me.

"I saw your shitty story in the newspaper." Said. "It was not enough for Alastor to humiliate me in the hotel, he had to make it public in a newspaper and read the article on the radio.”

I looked at her in horror.

"It wasn't our fault!" I tried to defend myself.

“Now it all makes sense to me. You always wanted to play with me. You were together before. " She said, angrily.

“They are all lies! But the journalist followed us and…! "

"Shut up!" She exclaimed, slamming the table.

I was startled.

“I always suspected that the two of you had something and was foolish enough to want to think it wasn't! Who gives dresses to her employee?! Who takes her maid for a walk and dinner?! Who gives a piano to her employee?! "

She breathed, agitated.

“This is why Alastor always refused to accept my marriage proposal! I've been waiting over a year for an answer! One year! And it turns out that he didn't want to because he was in love with you!”

He didn't know what to say to her. I was paralyzed, watching the Miss Mimzy I had known for a long time transformed into a woman full of resentment. Someone who didn´t conceive how it was possible that her plans didn´t go as expected. 

"You always pretended to be a dead fly!" She continued, yelling. “Always hanging around Alastor. Coaxing him with your scrawny girl attributes. Do you have any idea how many times I've been called on the phone to ask how I didn't realize Alastor was cheating on me? Do you know how many people are talking behind my back right now? Having pity for being the eternal spinster, that when she got a boyfriend, he cheated on her before reaching the altar?”

I froze. Miss Mimzy was losing control, and her eyes were once again filling with tears. She opened another drawer and I was afraid she had another butcher knife, ready to throw it to me. I was ready to scream if necessary. I instinctively looked at my feet, but the shadow wasn't there. I felt helpless for a moment. Why would shadow abandon me at a time like this?

I looked at Miss Mimzy again.

"My only consolation is that I will not fall alone." She said hoarsely.

And, from the open drawer, she took out a notebook. One that I knew quite well. Right away, I opened my wallet, and it was empty. I watched Mimzy leaf through my notebook calmly.

“You write very well. You are very descriptive with the details. " she said.

"Give me that back." I demanded.

She looked at me indifferently and threw my notebook at my feet. I picked it up right away and started looking at it. It seemed to be in perfect condition. But knowing that Mimzy had read it made me feel violated in my privacy. That notebook was also my diary. Where I wrote about what I was passionate about, about what I longed for, I wrote the drafts of the songs that I hoped to compose one day, and, above all, it was my means by which I wrote about everything I felt for Alastor and how he made me feel every time we got intimate.Expressing, fully, every moment.

Then I noticed it. I looked through the pages several times, but it was not there.

"Are you missing something, cutie?" She said slowly.

Yes. I was missing something. I looked at Miss Mimzy again, in horror. She was holding a photograph in her hand. An old, unframed photograph of three people in a restaurant. A photograph that should be stuck in my notebook.

"I really shouldn't be surprised by all the skills you possess, worthy of a very good upper-class education." She said, leaning her seat back.

I felt terror creeping up my spine and my legs buckled.

"Charlotte Magne. It's a lovely name." She said, grinning wickedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to the team of official translators:  
> @MerlinIsland and @ Neredia1
> 
> And to the artist on the official cover:  
> @ yesiktz95
> 
> OFFICIAL COVER https://twitter.com/yesiktz95/status/1251621104877056000?s=20  
> by Yesi Muñoz  
> https://twitter.com/yesiktz95
> 
> Sígueme en Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/AngelusM19


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